A Very Weasley Christmas
by oscarpaz00
Summary: The first Christmas of Ron and Hermione in the 'Those Four Last Days of the War' universe. What happens when two people are meant to be.
1. Slughorn's Christmas Party

_This is a five-chapter story about the first Christmas after Ron and Hermione got together in __**Those Four Last Days of the War**_. _If you had read this story, you already know what it is about. If you didn't, this story can be enjoyed separately. You just need to know that this happens during sixth year, and that the argument between Ginny and Ron never took place in this universe, so Ron and Hermione went together to Slughorn's party._

_If, after reading this, you want to read TFLDotW, bear in mind that that story is not like this one. TFLDotW is a story full of angst, mystery and intrigue, and some of you may not be able to read all of it. In fact, you may get shocked about the things that happened a few months after what I tell here._

_This chapter is, basically, chapter 10 of TFLDotW with some extensions._

_Thanks to __**ObsessedRHShipper**__ who kindly read this and corrected some mistakes._

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 1<strong>_

**Slughorn's Christmas Party**

Hermione was feeling completely un-Hermione-like. And it wasn't because the reflection in the mirror that stared back at her looked different from her usual self, as she was wearing her dress robes and her hair was a little sleeker. No, she felt different because of the giddiness inside her. Feeling giddy was not something she was accustomed to. After all, she wasn't a typical girl, was she? She didn't read _Witch Weekly_, didn't gossip and most of the time she didn't care about how she looked. Okay, she knew she wasn't an ugly girl. She had discovered during the Yule Ball that she was a decent-looking girl, and perhaps could qualify as, dare she say, pretty. But she cared about her looks much less than, for example, Lavender. She knew that there were much more important things in life, like having a good heart, cleverness, friendship, bravery and doing what was right. She wanted to be appreciated for who she was on the inside, and not for how she was on the outside.

And she knew that Ron liked her for who she was, and that was one of the things she loved about him.

Of course, Ron was also a sixteen-year-old boy and he could be pretty stupid sometimes, especially around Veelas or Madam Rosmerta. And during those times, when he looked at other pretty girls, she couldn't help getting irrationally jealous. It was irrational because she knew she was pretty too, but basically, she didn't want Ron to look at her the way he looked at those other women.

_No matter how much she wanted to be the only girl that Ron looked at, she didn't want him to notice her for just her looks and body_. She adored when Ron stared at her in awe for something she had done, or for something she had discovered or planned. When he looked at her that way, he made her feel things that no one else could.

She knew Ron was not the most mature boy of his age; that was for sure! So, she had waited years for the appropriate moment when they could — perhaps — take a step further in their relationship and become something more than friends. She had hoped, when the Yule Ball had been announced back in their fourth year, that he would ask her to go with him. That day, when Professor McGonagall had informed them about the Ball, she had found herself thinking about with whom she wanted to go. And a mere second later, the answer had bubbled inside her head; the answer took the form of her very first visit to Hogsmeade. On that day, they both went there together, and had had one of the best times of their lives. On that day Ron had made her laugh so much, he had patiently listened to her explain things about the village's history, and he had told her a lot of things about the Wizarding World she didn't know yet. On that day they had had their first butterbeer together, had enjoyed tasting the many sweets Honeydukes offered, had visited the Shrieking Shack and the Post Office ... and had enjoyed each other's company immensely.

Yes, she had wanted Ron to ask her- the same Ron that had once defeated a troll with a charm she had taught him- the same Ron that had spent a day vomiting slugs for her. And for a few days, she had let herself hope, even dream, about going to the ball with him, dancing with him, and laughing, and joking ... and, perhaps, even kissing him at the end of the night ... But her dream had shattered to pieces the moment she had discovered that he had other ideas. And just like the insensitive prat he sometimes was, he only wanted to go with the prettiest girl that would have him. The fact that she was his friend, or that they could have so much fun together when they were not bickering — and sometimes, even when they were bickering — seemed to mean nothing to him. That revelation had been an unexpected blow to her, so she had stormed off to her room, so sad and hurt that she had almost cried.

But in the end, she had accepted that fact. Ron didn't have, after all, to like her in that way. If he did want to go with some pretty, brainless girl, well, it was his choice. Was she a bit sad? Yes, she was. Hermione felt that sometimes they complemented each other so perfectly that it was as if they were, dare she say, _meant to be_. Not that she believed in destiny, divination or such rubbish, but —

So, when Viktor Krum had asked her to go with him, she had accepted without hesitation. And even now, two years later, she was glad she had said yes, because Viktor had made her feel truly beautiful, in every sense of the word, for the first time in her life. He had chosen her when half of the girls in the school were literally throwing themselves at him. He had seen her, the real her, for who she was, and not for how many hours she spent in front of the mirror to look more beautiful. He wanted to go to the ball with someone that could appreciate him for him, not for how famous he was. And she wanted to go with someone that _valued her personality_ more than how sensually she could bat her eyelashes. She had understood perfectly what he wanted, and he had made her feel ... adequate.

And when, a few days after, Ron had asked her — if what he had done could be called asking — she had felt only the slightest regret for accepting Viktor's offer. She had even felt a little pleased by the fact that Ron was enduring the agony of not finding a date. She had wanted Ron to ask her because he really wanted to go with her, not because he hadn't been able to find another date. After all, she had some pride and dignity.

In the end, she really expected that she could spend time with him and Harry at the Ball, as they had always shared everything, and have fun. Viktor was, after all, Ron's idol; surely they could get along well. And perhaps he would comprehend his mistake and, after he had matured a bit, something could happen between them.

But, of course, things hadn't worked out as she had planned. During the few days before the Ball, he had been asking her who her date was with an almost obsessive interest that she had secretly enjoyed. However, the night of the Ball...

The night of the Ball had been a disaster in that aspect.

She was very nervous, as she had never dressed like that before, and she had to admit that she looked pretty. And Viktor, very gallantly, had told her so when they had met in the Entrance Hall. But the shock of the night had been the expression on Ron's face. Incredulity first, and fury after that.

At first, she had not understood him when he had accused her of 'fraternising with the enemy.' Wasn't Viktor Krum his idol? Wasn't he, Ron, the one who was always talking about him and trying to get his autograph? And after all of that there he was, accusing her of horrible things, making her feel as if she wasn't good enough for a boy to like her simply for her. He had made her feel so furious, so hurt that for a moment she had wanted nothing more than to disappear and forget that she had ever met a boy named Ronald Weasley. But, after thinking about it for a bit, she had decided she wasn't going to let him spoil her night. Viktor had proven to be a very good partner; besides being a good dancer, he was eager to speak and to hear about everything. And so she had left Ron and Harry and had gone back to him, and the two had had a lot of fun. And in the end, she had even let him kiss her; she had let him give her her first kiss, and she had enjoyed it. He had been gentle at first, and then a bit more passionate. It had been a good kiss, yes. However, while she was kissing him, she had realised that something wasn't right.

Because Viktor, with his chivalry, his kindness and his devotion for her — yes, he had shown her absolute devotion during the night — simply was not Ron.

And when the Ball had finished, and she was walking towards the Gryffindor Tower, that thought had kept turning around in her head; she hadn't known how to feel about it, because Viktor had been wonderful, and Ron had been an insensitive prat. But, she had realised the fact was that she _liked_ that insensitive prat, because he could made her laugh and relax like no one else, like that wonderful day in Hogsmeade, and in the next instant he could drive her absolutely mad, like when they had had the row about Crookshanks and Scabbers. He was the only one who could provoke such intense and sometimes opposite feelings in her. And, above all, she knew, as she had discovered the year before during the time they had been angry at each other, that she could not be happy if Ron was not in her life.

And suddenly, as she was approaching the Portrait of the Fat Lady with those thoughts in her mind, everything had made sense in her head: the incredulity in Ron's face after seeing her, the sudden despising of Viktor, and the fact that he had not given any attention to Padma Patil during the night. Certainly, she had found that detail strange when she had gone to sit with them; after all, wasn't she what Ron wanted? Going with the prettiest girl he could get? And positively, Padma Patil was pretty. Why wasn't he paying attention to her, like that drooling, dim wit Roger Davies was doing to Fleur Delacour? But then the row had started and everything else had been banished from her mind. Now, however, everything was perfectly clear.

Ron was jealous. Jealous of Viktor Krum.

The realisation had made her feel a bit weak in the knees. Because if Ron really was jealous, that meant that he fancied her. A smile had appeared on her lips at the thought, only to be replaced, after a second, by a scowl. Yes, Ron was jealous ... he wanted her to be with him. But he had realised that only when he had seen her dressed like this, with her hair shiny and make-up on, and that was not what she wanted. Deep inside her, she knew that her looks were not the only reason, because Padma was as pretty as her, if not more, and Ron hadn't paid any attention to her at all, but that was not enough for Hermione.

However, the bottom line was that he, Ron, quite possibly liked her, and if he really, really did ... then she was willing to wait for him.

And with that thought she had stepped into the Common Room, and suddenly Ron was yelling at her again, and she at him. And finally she had realised that Ron didn't really know he was jealous, so she had told him to ask her before anyone else next time, and had gone to bed, sighing. Then she had taken off her beautiful dress robes and had lied down in bed curled underneath the blankets, cursing him, but, at the same time, wishing for him to mature, to understand, and to realise what could happen between them, and hoping that it was worth all this. And something, inside her, had told her that it would be...

And now, after so much time, after so much wait ... she was feeling that the moment had finally come. It had not been easy, of course, having those unrequited feelings, and searching for clues that indicated that Ron was, at last, understanding what was happening between them, but she was a patient girl, wasn't she? And so she had waited.

And the first clue, after a long time, had been the Christmas present he had bought her last year: perfume, not a book or some boxes of sweets, but perfume... a gift for a girl. After opening it, she had felt a bit embarrassed, because she had got him a homework planner, like Harry's. That had been an awful mistake, because she needed for Ron to see that, to her, he was not like Harry. Harry was her best friend, like a brother. Ron was ... something more.

After that, things had not progressed much further. Or, at least, there hadn't been sudden changes. Nevertheless, somehow, they had gotten closer...slowly, but definitely closer. They even shared a 'moment' when she had woken up, in the hospital wing, after the skirmish at the Ministry. So in the end, after summer, after seeing how Ron had gotten jealous about her comments about Harry's attractiveness to girls, and after seeing how Lavender Brown had tried to get Ron's attention without success, she had taken things into her own hands and had asked him to Slughorn's Christmas Party.

And tonight was the night...the moment she had been awaiting for the last few weeks. Exhaling a heavy breath, she exited the bathroom and crossed the room towards her bed to put on her shoes. Parvati, who was reading a book, smiled at her.

"You look great, Hermione," she complimented her. Hermione grinned gratefully at her roommate, and saw Lavender scowling. Hermione didn't mind. Lavender fancied Ron, and Ron was going to the party with her, so it was logical that she would be angry. Not that she really cared. Ron certainly could do much better than Lavender, who, in her opinion, was shallow and not very clever, to say the least.

Hermione left her room and climbed down the stairs leading to the Common Room to find Ron sitting on one of the armchairs, chatting with Dean and Seamus. He was wearing the new dark blue dress robes Fred and George had bought him, and, in her eyes, he looked incredibly handsome in them.

"I'm ready," she said a bit uncertainly, stopping close to his armchair and smiling nervously at him. He turned his head, startled, and stared at her for almost half a minute, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Hermione's nervousness grew and her smile faltered.

"You look — amazing, Hermione," he said finally, and smiled at her.

Hermione's grin widened again and the nervousness faded almost completely. "You look great, too."

He returned the smile, looking a bit relieved, and, after saying goodbye to the others, they exited the Common Room.

"And where is Harry?" asked Hermione.

"He went to meet Luna. He said they'll see us later in Slughorn's office."

"Okay."

They reached the office and went inside. Hermione noticed that it had been magically enlarged, and a lot of Christmas decorations had been put around it. There were tables full of food and drinks, and a lot of people had already arrived and were chatting in groups all around the place. Hermione turned towards Ron and saw him staring around at everything. He looked a bit nervous.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked him, a bit concerned.

"Yeah," Ron said. "It's — I didn't expect anything like this. Who are all these people?"

"Some old students of Slughorn, I assu—" Hermione proceeded to answer, but was interrupted by the voice of the party host.

"Ms. Granger! Welcome, welcome! Oh, I see you've brought Mr Weeby with you. Wonderful!" Slughorn greeted them, patting Hermione on her right shoulder. Hermione saw Ron scowling at Slughorn, but the professor didn't seem to notice. "I have to introduce you to Barnabus Goodburn; he is a high-ranking official in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. You said you were interested in that area, didn't you?" he asked, dragging Hermione along with him and ignoring Ron completely.

"Eh, yes, I —" She didn't know what to do. Ron's scowl had intensified, but now he also looked disappointed and sad.

"You go. I'll bring us a pair of butterbeers, okay?" he told her, walking away.

"Charming," beamed Slughorn, dragging her towards a medium sized bald man with a greyish beard. "Hey, Barnabus! I want you to meet Ms Granger here. Quite possibly one of the most talented witches I've ever seen!"

Hermione smiled and talked a bit to Mr Goodburn. After a few minutes, Slughorn insisted on introducing her to another Ministry official, this time from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and, afterwards, to the president of the Nimbus Broomsticks and Quidditch Supplies Company. Hermione tried to be kind and polite, but she was starting to get tired and irritated. Ron had not come back and she didn't know where he was.

Finally, Slughorn saw Harry and Luna and, smiling broadly, let her go and went to greet his favourite student. Hermione sighed in relief, smiled and waved at Harry and Luna and then began to search for Ron amongst the crowd.

At last, he spotted him in a corner, alone, leaning against the wall, with an almost empty bottle of butterbeer in his hands. He didn't look happy.

"You're here!" she exclaimed as she reached the corner in which he was. "I thought you were going to bring me a butterbeer."

Ron passed her a bottle and took a new sip from his, without saying a word.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning. "Why didn't you come back to me?"

"Well, I didn't want to be in your way," Ron muttered, looking at her seriously.

Hermione didn't understand anything.

"What do you mean?"

"Slughorn wanted to introduce you to all those important people, didn't he? They want to meet you, and I suppose they would love to meet Harry too. Not me. After all, Slughorn doesn't even remember my name, and I've been in his classes for four months now." He stopped talking and then looked at the floor. "Perhaps you should have come with someone else," he added sadly. "You could have asked Harry, or McLaggen. Then Slughorn could introduce you together and —"

"Stop," she ordered, her voice adopting a dangerous tone. Now she was getting angry. Ron raised his eyes and stared at her.

"What?"

"You — You — How can you be so daft?" she asked, almost livid.

Ron's disappointed expression turned into one of annoyance.

"I don't know," he said sarcastically. "Maybe that's why —"

"Shut up!" she ordered, trying — with difficulty — not to raise her voice. "Do you — do you really think that I care about what Slughorn or the other people here think about you? Is that what you think, Ron?" she demanded angrily.

Ron's mouth twitched, but he didn't say anything.

"Do you think I wanted to come here with Harry?"

"Well, you said he had never been more fanciable, and with what he had endured last year and all that —" he began to explain.

And then Hermione finally figured out what the problem was. Insecurity. The feeling of inadequacy. She understood it perfectly, because she had had to cope with it herself. Sometimes, she still had to. And she knew that, if she and Ron were going to be a couple someday, this was an issue she had to solve once and for all.

"Come with me," she said to him, taking another two butterbeers. Ron looked a bit bewildered, but followed her anyway.

Hermione moved through the crowded room to where Harry and Luna stood. Luna was talking to Professor Trelawney.

"Hi, Harry, Luna," saluted Hermione.

"Hi, Hermione, Ron," Harry said, smiling at them with relief. Hermione saw Harry's gaze travelling between her and Ron, and his smile faded. "Is everything okay, Ron? You seem a bit off."

"Yeah, wonderful," responded Ron a bit coldly.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion and looked at Hermione questioningly. "What —?"

"We'll talk later, okay? See you," Hermione told him before Harry could say anything more. She grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him to a secluded and quiet place in one of the corners of the room, leaving an astonished Harry behind them.

"What are we doing here?" Ron asked, more confused than ever by Hermione's actions.

"Let's sum this up," she said, ignoring Ron's question. "You think I fancy Harry?" she asked, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Er, no," Ron muttered, suddenly shy. "I mean —"

"Exactly! I don't fancy Harry! If I wanted to come with Harry, I would have asked Harry. But I didn't, did I? I asked _you_," she said, poking him hard in the chest with her index finger.

"Yeah, because I was the only one who wasn't invited and — ugh, Hermione!" he yelled in pain, because she had punched him in the ribs. "What was that for?"

"Because you were going to say something more stupid than the things you usually say!"

Ron was beginning to get angry. "So, now I'm daft and stupid?"

"YES! Sometimes, you are!" she exclaimed fiercely. "Tell me, Ron, were you going to say that I invited you because I felt pity for you? Was that what you were going to say?"

Ron's ears reddened, but his gaze was defiant. "Yes."

"Listen to me, Ron Weasley, never, ever in my whole life have I felt pity for you! Do you understand me? I asked you to come because I WANTED to come with you, because I thought we could have fun, and enjoy the party! But, you know, I'm beginning to think that I was wrong, because I'm not having any fun at all." Ron didn't say anything for a moment and Hermione continued. "I don't care about what Slughorn, or any other person in the world, thinks about you, Ron! The only thing that matters is what _I_ think about you. And yes, I said Harry was fanciable! And he is, just like you are!"

Ron's mouth opened in surprise at her last words. "You think I'm fanciable?"

"Yes, you stupid prat! You're tall, and brave; you're noble, and kind, and you are a very good friend! I find those qualities fanciable!"

"You never said anything like that to me before, Hermione," Ron said, sad but also a bit pleased. His ears were still as red as his hair. "You know, you got all excited when you knew Harry had spoken to Slughorn about you. And when I told you that I also thought you were the best in our year, you shushed me. How was I supposed to know —?"

Hermione's expression softened, and she exhaled a sigh. "I know. Perhaps that is my fault. I didn't know you were still so insecure, Ron. I thought ... I thought you knew."

"Well, you said I'm daft, didn't you?" he said with a sad smile.

"Ron, I don't care about the fact that Slughorn didn't invite you to join the Slug Club. It's a really stupid thing, you know ... He doesn't value the things that matter the most. I mean, McLaggen and Zabini are members, aren't they? And what have they done? But you, you beat Professor McGonagall's Chess game, Ron. When you were twelve, you sacrificed yourself so Harry and I could go on to protect the Philosopher's Stone. And the next year, you went to the Chamber of Secrets, and faced Acromantulas ... and I don't remember it well," she continued, with an ironic tone, "but weren't you the one that stood up to Sirius Black, a supposed mass murderer, telling him he would have to kill you and me to get Harry? Go, Ron, and ask Harry if he would have preferred to have Zabini or McLaggen, or any other person at his side on those occasions! And last year you went to the Department of Mysteries, and you fought Death Eaters. Don't you understand, Ron? You're as brave as Harry is! You have always been a bit jealous of him. I always knew and I understood it, but for Heaven's sake, it's time for you to get over that! Don't you realise, Ron, that sometimes is Harry the one who is jealous of you?"

"Of me?" asked Ron in disbelief.

"Yes, of you!" she affirmed. "He has fame, and money, and is the 'Chosen One.' And what? You have a loving family, and no one points at you everywhere you go. Harry would love that! But you already know it, don't you, because you were with him when he looked at that mirror. The thing Harry has always wanted the most is what you have always had." Ron smiled at her almost imperceptibly. "And when we came to Hogwarts, it was me who was jealous of you both, especially you, because you weren't great at classes, but you had your brothers here, and both of you had a friend, while I had none of that. I felt so alone and inadequate here, Ron ..." she confessed, and she felt her eyes water a little.

"Inadequate? You?" asked Ron, dumbfounded by her confession. "You must be mental. You're the best —"

"Yes, inadequate!" she cut in. "That's why I pushed myself so hard, to be the best and to demonstrate to everyone that I belonged here. But, in the end, I had no more friends than in my old school. That evening, on Halloween, when I was in the bathroom, crying because of the things you had said to me, I was thinking about writing to my parents and leaving Hogwarts," she confessed. Ron opened his mouth in great astonishment. "But then the troll appeared and you two came for me. And Harry threw himself at that monster, and you correctly performed the Hover Charm, the charm I had explained to you, and saved me, and we became friends." She stared intensely at him through her wet eyes. "And that night is still one of my best memories, the one I used the first time I invoked a Patronus."

"Hermione, I'm so sorry for that, for the horrible things I said to you. I — I never knew," said Ron apologetically. Slowly, he raised one of his hands and wiped a lonely tear from her face.

"I am not sorry," replied Hermione with a sob, closing her eyes at the gentle contact of his thumb. "We became friends that day and even with everything we've faced, I'd never change what happened. You're one of the most important people in my life, Ron, along with Harry and my parents. You're not less than Harry and me. You gave us both a family in the Wizarding World. Harry needs you so badly. He was miserable when you were not talking during fourth year. And I was miserable, too, when we were not on speaking terms that time after Scabbers disappeared in our third year."

Ron was speechless, gaping at her like a fish, his ears bright red. "I — I don't know what to say, Hermione. I — I just — sometimes I just think I'm not worthy of you —"

"Stop it!" she bellowed, shaking him by his shoulders. "You don't have to decide who's worthy of me! That's my choice; do you understand? Didn't I tell you already how much Harry and I need you, and how many great things you have done? Do you remember how many great things the three of us have done together?"

"Yes, you did tell me. And I do remember," he nodded. "I see your point."

"Then tell me, Ron. Why? Why is it so important for you to get noticed by other people?"

"It isn't," Ron said in a low voice. "I mean, I like it when I get the attention, that's true, because you know, my house is full of people, and you have to do something very unusual to get noticed above the others. But in the end, the only person I wanted to hear those things from was you, Hermione. You have been the only one I've wanted to impress for a long time. I convinced myself that if everyone else was impressed by me, you'd be as well and you'd notice me more. I — I simply needed you to believe in me."

"And I do!" she affirmed wholeheartedly, "I've always believed in you, Ron. You were the one that didn't believe in yourself. I know I've never told you all of this, because — because ... Well, I didn't want other people to know that — that —" she stopped, shaking her head for a moment and dropping her gaze before locking her eyes with his again. "But you don't have to do anything to be worthy of me, you already are. I don't need other people to realise and to pinpoint to me how great you are, because I've realised that a long time ago," she explained passionately. Then she paused for a moment and added "the only thing that you had to do to be with me was to notice me."

"I —" began to say Ron, but he got interrupted by Filch, who entered in the room dragging an angry Draco Malfoy with him. Both Ron and Hermione watched the word exchange between Draco, Slughorn and Filch until Snape left the party with a displeased Malfoy. Hermione turned her face again towards Ron. "You were saying?"

"I was going to say that I did notice you, Hermione. I know that sometimes I'm thick, and daft, like you said. But I notice you. In the Yule Ball you were ..." He shook his head, his voice tailing away.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, you are daft and thick, but at times you're also brilliant. And you're loyal, and you can always make me laugh, and loosen up a bit. I like you for the way you are, Ron, with your faults and virtues. They make you, you. You know, that time when we went to Hogsmeade alone? That's another of my best memories," she confessed, blushing slightly.

Ron's ears turned red like Hermione's cheeks and he smiled at her as she continued, "And the Yule Ball ... You know that I wanted you to ask me, don't you?"

"Well, I think that I realised it at some point."

"You hurt me, Ron, when you told me you wanted to go with the prettiest girl available."

"And you went with Krum." It wasn't an accusation.

"I did. And I don't regret it. I enjoyed myself, and he was very kind and gentle. He didn't care about what I looked like. He liked the fact that him being an International Quidditch player didn't matter to me at all. He liked me for me."

"You looked beautiful that night," he blurted. "Not that other days you aren't!" he added, trying to explain himself. "I mean —"

Hermione smiled. "I didn't want you to notice me for my looks."

"I know. And I don't. Really, Hermione. I mean, seeing you there, with your dress robes, your sleek hair and all that was like a slap in my face. But I'll tell you a secret," he bent towards her and whispered, "I like you a lot better carrying a lot of books, and with your hair the way it usually is. It's ... more like you. I simply wasn't aware of that fact at that time."

Hermione blushed even more, and had to look away from his eyes. Something inside her was soaring with delight.

"Not that I mind seeing you like this," added Ron. "You look really stunning. And I am glad you asked me to come."

"I'm glad you came, Ron," she replied, raising her gaze and staring intensely into his dazzling blue eyes. "And once and for all, to settle this: I don't want you to be Harry, nor Krum, nor anyone else. I like you. You!"

"I like you too, Hermione. I've never told you as much as I should, but I would be lost without you. I wouldn't have even passed my OWLs. Bloody hell, probably Harry and I wouldn't even be alive! You've been so important to us, Hermione — to me. You have never been inadequate. Never. In fact, I don't think there has ever been anyone who deserved to be at Hogwarts more than you do."

Hermione beamed, and that thing that was soaring inside her began to roar with happiness.

"So —" she began.

"So —" he started.

And then she could not hold herself back any longer. It has been too long, so she threw herself at him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him with all her heart and soul. And a glorious instant later, he was embracing her tightly, pressing her against him, and kissing her back. It wasn't a kiss from someone with plenty of experience, unlike Viktor's; instead it was tentative and hesitant. But it was from Ron, her Ron; it was a kiss full of tenderness and care and passion, and that was all she needed in the world.

After almost two minutes, they separated their mouths for much needed air. Ron had a dazed expression of pure happiness etched upon his face, and Hermione knew that she probably had a similar one on hers.

"Whoa!" said Ron, grinning broadly, his arms still around Hermione, as hers were around his neck. "For a first kiss, I daresay it was ... bloody brilliant."

Hermione blushed and looked down, towards his chest. "Ron, after everything we've said, I don't want more secrets or misunderstandings between us, so I have to tell you this." She forced herself to look directly into his eyes, feeling a bit nervous. "My first kiss was with Viktor."

"Oh," Ron said dejectedly, breaking their eye contact, his radiant grin suddenly gone. The pressure of his arms around her slackened a bit, and she could tell that he was trying to conceal his disappointment and anger. "Well — Was he —? I mean —" he stuttered before realising what he was asking. When he did, he shut his mouth and looked away, embarrassed, waiting for her to say something.

"It was different," she answered sincerely. "I'm not going to tell you that I didn't enjoy it when he kissed me..." Ron released her completely, and she felt suddenly cold. "He is older, you know, and more experienced, so it was good. But that doesn't matter, Ron, because when he was kissing me, I knew it for sure."

"You knew what?" he asked sharply, looking at her again.

"That no matter how well he kissed, or how kind or gentle he was, he wasn't you. The kiss with Viktor was fine, Ron, yes. But the kiss we just shared means everything to me."

Ron didn't say anything for an entire minute, and then, when Hermione was almost dying with anxiety, he hugged her again, tightly, and whispered directly to her ear, "It means everything to me too."

And again, she felt that same feeling...the feeling of giddiness and of happiness, a feeling that told her that she was living the happiest moment of her life. Then Ron was snogging her again, with all his passion and all his heart. One of his hands was on the small of her back, his other hand was caressing her hair, and every cell of her body was yelling with delight, because after all her waiting, all the misunderstandings, all the bickering and rowing, Ron was hers, and she was his.

At last.

When they parted, both flushed and panting heavily, but very happy, she stared, mesmerised, at the radiant grin on Ron's face.

"Can I assume you're my girlfriend now, then?" he asked.

She felt exhilarated at the words. _My girlfriend_. _MY girlfriend_. She was Ron's girlfriend now ... or was she? She tried to erase the smile from her face and put a thoughtful expression in its place.

"Well, I don't remember you asking," she answered. Ron's smiled vanished instantly.

"Oh, come on! You're not going to make me _ask_, are you? We've kissed! _Twice_!"

"People can kiss without becoming a couple," she argued.

"But you admitted you love me!" he replied vehemently.

"I did no such thing!" she responded, a bit taken aback.

He sighed, gazed at her for a while and then smiled again. "Okay, okay, you win," he said, defeated. "Hermione, do you — do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asked, his voice fading away so that when he uttered the last word it was barely audible.

"I have to think about it."

His eyes became the size of saucers. "WHAT!"

She couldn't help it, and began to laugh at the face he was making. "I was joking, Ron. Of course, I want to be your girlfriend."

He sighed, a bit relieved, and then scowled. "You know you have the worst timing _ever _when it comes to jokes, don't you? That is not a nice thing to say to a bloke who has popped the question!" he scolded her.

"Don't be so melodramatic," she said, smiling lovingly at him. "You're acting as if you had asked me to marry you."

His ears turned red and he looked at the floor, embarrassed. She couldn't help it and caressed his cheek. "Well, since you're my boyfriend now, are you going to dance with me?"

He raised his gaze and looked into her eyes, grinning. "Well, I can try," he said. "But I'm not the best partner there is when it comes to dancing —"

"Don't worry," she told him, taking his hand in hers. "I don't expect you to be Fred Astaire."

"Who?" asked Ron, frowning at her.

"A Muggle dancer," she answered, "a very famous one."

"What do you mean, 'a dancer?'" he asked, even more confused. "You've said it as if his job consisted of dancing."

"The job of a dancer _does_ consist of dancing, Ron," she explained patiently.

"There are Muggle people who earn money _just dancing_?" he asked, astonished.

"There are. And some of them, like in the case of Fred Astaire, earn a lot. Really, Ron," she added, "you should take Muggle Studies."

"Hermione," he scolded, as he dragged her to where other couples were dancing, "so far, this night is promising to be the best one in my life; don't ruin it."

They stopped in the midst of the crowd. The song that was being played was a slow one, so she put his hands on her waist and she put hers around his neck. She looked into his eyes, and noticed, surprised, that he was not looking at her, but at some point behind her left shoulder. He was frowning.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Where has Harry gone?" he said. "Luna's there, alone, speaking to Trelawney."

Hermione took her arms off Ron's neck and turned her head. She scowled. "He'd better not have left her here all alone!"

"Harry wouldn't do that," said Ron.

Hermione walked towards Luna, and Ron followed her.

"Luna, where's Harry?" she asked the other girl.

"Oh, he said he had to go to the bathroom," Luna answered dreamily. "Although that was a bit ago ..." Her expression became thoughtful, and then she opened her eyes widely in realisation. "Oh, no! I hope he hasn't swallowed a Nargle without realising! The castle is full of them, what with all this mistletoe hanging from the ceilings! Eating a Nargle makes visits to the loo longer, you know, because they do funny things in your stomach," she explained, completely serious.

"Eh — okay," Hermione said, grimacing and trying not to think about the nasty images Luna's words had conjured. "Fine, then. Er — see you later."

She turned round again quickly and she and Ron walked back to their previous spot. Ron was trying, unsuccessfully, not to laugh.

"It wasn't funny," she said, frowning.

"Of course, it was," replied Ron, and started laughing loudly before putting his hands back on her waist. "'Swallowed a Nargle', 'longer visits to the loo' ..." He laughed again. "She's great, Luna."

"Oh, let me forget she said _that_," she pleaded, slapping him on one arm before putting her arms around his neck again.

Ron stopped laughing and simply stared at her, a happy grin on his face. She returned it.

"This feels great," he confessed, squeezing her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"Yeah, it does," she agreed, and let him control the movement while she enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms.

They danced two more songs, almost oblivious to everything else, and then Ron stopped.

"Harry's back," he said to Hermione, and she followed his gaze. Effectively, Harry was there, beside Luna, and was watching them. He seemed a bit upset, and Hermione became nervous. She took Ron's left hand in her right one and they parted. Harry said something to Luna and walked towards them.

"You're back," Ron said to him. "Where did you go?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then he glanced at their intertwined hands and seemed to change his mind. "Er — are you two —?" he began to ask, a bit awkwardly.

"Oh!" said Ron, and looked down at their hands, too. "Er ... yes, we are," he answered, blushing.

Hermione watched Harry attentively. "Harry, are you — are you okay with this?" she asked nervously. "I mean, with Ron and me being — being ... _together_?"

"Eh? Ah, yes, yes, it's fine," he said, flushing a little. "It's more than fine; it's great, actually. Brilliant, even," he added, a bit nervous. "Well, as long as you don't start snogging in front of me, of course ..."

"We won't," assured Hermione. Harry smiled at them and they returned the gesture. "Then what's the matter?" she asked. "You were gone for quite a long time and you seem upset."

"It's —" he began to say, but then he seemed to change his mind. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Just enjoy the party, okay?"

"Harry, are you sure you're all right?" Hermione insisted. "If it's important, you can tell us."

"I'll tell you tomorrow," he repeated. "Don't worry, Hermione, seriously."

Hermione wanted to nag him, but Ron stopped her. "Drop it," he advised her. "He said he will tell us tomorrow."

"Yeah. Eh ... I'll let you dance, then," he added, looking awkward again. "I — I think I'll fetch two butterbeers for me and Luna, yes. See you later," he said, and vanished among the crowd.

"Well, that went rather well," Ron commented.

"It was awkward," Hermione replied. "Very awkward. Do you think he is really okay with this?" she asked Ron, seeking reassurance. "I hope he doesn't think we'll leave him alone."

"Nah, he said it was fine with him. I reckon that it was something else that upset him...maybe Malfoy. He's becoming a bit obsessed with the git."

"What if it was his scar?" she asked, the idea hitting her suddenly. "What if he saw something, something awful?"

"He said it had stopped," Ron replied, thinking about it. "And I didn't hear him having one of those nightmares since last year."

"Well, I suppose we'll have to wait until tomorrow to know what it is," sighed Hermione. "Meanwhile," she added, putting her arms around his neck again, "you could show me a bit more of your dancing skills."

He laughed. "I think I've already showed you all of those. But I think I might have some snogging skills I didn't show you yet," he said suggestively.

"Oh, you think?" she replied in a slightly mocking tone. "And how is that, if I am the first girl you've snogged?"

"Well, I imagined snogging you a lot. I might have developed some _amazing_ techniques during those imaginary sessions."

"Oh, I'm sure," she said, smiling. "Well, show me, then, and let's judge whether they're _amazing_ or not."

He did, and she had to admit that, if his techniques weren't _amazing_, they certainly were quite close to it.

* * *

><p><em>As this chapter is short and some of you have already read part of it, I'll publish chapter 2 tomorrow. See you!<em>


	2. The Train Ride

_Once more, thanks to _**ObsessedRHShipper**_ for correcting this._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 2<strong>_

**The Train Ride**

"You really, _really_ can't come to The Burrow?" Ron was asking Hermione as they made their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast before taking the Hogwarts Express to go home.

"_Yes_, Ron, I'm sure. I spent half the summer in your house. My parents miss me, and I miss them."

"I'll miss you, too," he pouted. "In fact, I'm already missing you."

She shook her head. "You're such a child sometimes ..."

"I'm not!" he retorted. "I'm a man!" he added, and raised his head high to accentuate his already considerable stature. She grinned and shook her head.

They kept walking silently for a minute or two, and then Ron stopped abruptly. "Wait a moment!" Hermione, surprised, turned round to look at him. "You aren't refusing to come because of what my mother could think about us, are you?"

"Of course not!" she replied, a bit too quickly, and couldn't help blushing a little.

"You are!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"NO!" she denied vehemently, but then sighed. "Well, maybe I am a bit worried ... but that is not the reason I'm not going to your house."

"Hermione, my family loves you; you know it. My parents treat you and Harry almost as if you were their children. I assure you they will be delighted when they find out that we're together. I'm sure Mum will say that I'm very fortunate to have such an intelligent, caring and beautiful girl as a girlfriend, and that if I screw it up with you they'll disinherit me."

Hermione couldn't help laughing.

"Okay, Ron, you've convinced me. But I'm still not going. You know I had plans with my parents."

"Well, at least I tried," he said, shrugging.

"Why don't you come to my house, instead?" she asked, the idea hitting her suddenly. "Maybe just for a day — or two?"

"Going to your house? Me?" he asked, taken aback.

"Yes!" she said, carried away. "My parents are always asking why I'm always going to The Burrow and why I don't invite you and Harry over."

"I'm not sure ..." he said, hesitant. "I don't know how I'll manage in a Muggle house. And are you sure your parents would want me there?"

"Of course, I am. They like you, you know it. They see you every year. They even stayed for tea when they brought me to your house this summer, Ron."

"Yeah, but I wasn't your boyfriend back then," he argued.

"Oh, Mum knows very well that I fancy you, Ron. And I suppose Dad knows, too."

"They _know_?" he asked, looking half-pleased, half-horrified. "Really?"

"I talk to my parents, you know," she said, surprised by his reaction. "I can't talk to them about Voldemort, but we have mature talks about a lot of things."

"Well, that's because you're too mature for your age, Hermione," he mocked her.

She fumed upon hearing that, a little offended. "Well, then it's good you're with me, Ron Weasley, because you're _too immature_ for your age!"

"Okay, okay, let's forget about maturity," he said, raising his hands in an attempt to placate her. "So — staying a few days in your house, eh?" he commented.

"Yes. Do you want to come?"

Ron thought about it for a moment. "Well, I suppose it would be great, but now that I come to think of it, Harry's coming to The Burrow. I can't leave him there while I go to your house. It wouldn't be right."

"He can come, too. And Ginny, if she wants to."

"I'll talk to my parents about it, then," agreed Ron. "But only if you come to The Burrow for New Year's Eve. Your parents can come too. I'm sure Mum won't mind, and Dad will be simply delighted."

"We'll see," she said, as they walked across the Entrance Hall and towards the Great Hall.

Harry joined them ten minutes later. He and Luna had left the party earlier than Ron and Hermione the night before, so they had not been able to talk. Hermione noticed he still seemed a bit upset. He said 'Hi' to them, and then looked at the staff table and scowled.

"Are you going to tell us what the matter is?" she asked him, bending over the table and speaking in a low voice.

"Later, on the train," he said, and then changed the subject, "Did you enjoy the party?"

"We did," Ron said, grinning, and Hermione felt herself blush a little.

"Good," Harry said, nodding, and began to put some jam on a piece of toast, looking worried and thoughtful again.

"Hermione says we should spend one or two days at her house this Christmas," Ron commented. "I think it may be great."

Harry stared at them for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose it would, but I can't go."

"Why not?" Hermione asked him, frowning.

"Dumbledore made me promise I wouldn't wander around," he explained. "The Burrow is well protected and full of wizards, but your parents' house is not. I can't go there and risk their lives."

"Oh!" Hermione said. How could she have forgotten? "Yeah, you're right." She looked at Ron. "Sorry, then. I didn't think about that."

He shrugged, a bit disappointed. "You can still come for New Year's Eve. I'd like it a lot if you came."

"I'll try," she promised. "If my parents don't have any special plans, I'll try to convince them."

They finished their breakfast and then the three of them began to walk towards Gryffindor tower to get their things. Hermione felt Ron's hand grabbing hers and smiled at him.

"This prat has come to his senses, then?" they heard Ginny say. She was hurrying to reach them and was smirking, looking at Ron and Hermione's hands. She beamed at Hermione, who smiled back. Ron, however, glared at his sister, turning red.

"Shut up!"

"I see that some snogging has not done anything for your mood," commented Ginny. "Anyway, Congratulations, Hermione — I think," she added, glaring at her brother. "You'll need luck and a lot of patience to deal with him."

Ron's face turned even redder. "I told you to shut up! Can't you leave us alone?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"What?" he said to her. "This is none of her business."

"You don't say that when it's the other way round!" yelled Ginny. "I'm going to say goodbye to Dean," she informed them. "I'll see you later, _Harry_, _Hermione_."

Ginny ran off and Hermione saw Harry watching her with ... longing? However, Ron was still fuming, murmuring things that sounded like 'insufferable nosey brat' and didn't notice anything.

As they made their way towards the marble staircase, Parvati and Lavender moved past them, walking fast. When they reached the stairs, Lavender turned her head round and threw a nasty look at Hermione before climbing up the stairs.

"I think Lavender won't be congratulating you soon," said Harry to Hermione in a joking tone.

Hermione frowned and looked at Ron, who seemed a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

"I didn't do anything!" Ron defended himself, even though nobody had said anything to him. "I didn't encourage her or — or anything like that!"

"I know it's not your fault," Hermione said, a bit crossly.

"Well, you looked at me as if it was."

"It was too much to hope, for you to stop bickering," Harry commented, shaking his head.

"We are not bickering!" Ron and Hermione shouted together.

o o o

"This compartment is empty, come in," Harry told his two friends. Ron and Hermione entered behind him and Ron closed the door.

"Well?" Hermione asked, once they were settled. "Are you going to tell us what's upsetting you?"

"I followed Snape and Malfoy last night, when they left the party," Harry began to tell, and Ron and Hermione couldn't help exchanging a meaningful glance. Harry saw it and frowned. "Wait until I tell you what I heard, okay? Then we'll see who's right," he said, and he proceeded to relate to them what he had heard about Malfoy's mission and the Unbreakable Vow Snape had made.

"And well?" he said, once he had finished. "You can't deny now that Malfoy is plotting something nasty. _I told you_. And Snape is trying to help him."

Hermione hummed. "Well, I never said Malfoy wasn't up to anything. But you didn't hear him saying Voldemort's —" (Ron fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat) "—name, did you?"

Harry frowned. "Snape said 'your master.' Who else could they mean?"

"I don't know," admitted Hermione. "It could be his father. It could be anyone."

Harry snorted.

"And what about Snape?" he continued. "He is obviously trying to help him!"

"Well, he could just be offering him help to discover what he's up to," reasoned Hermione. "Dumbledore could have asked him to do so."

"You're incredible," said Harry, shaking his head with frustration. He looked at Ron. "What do you think?"

Ron frowned, a bit uncomfortable. "Well, Malfoy is clearly up to something," he said. "It's a shame you didn't hear what, though. And about Snape ... Well, an Unbreakable Vow is something pretty serious," he added, thoughtfully.

"He could only be offering Malfoy help to try to find out what he's planning, Ron!" insisted Hermione.

"He could," Ron admitted, avoiding Harry's glare.

"You're only saying that because she's your girlfriend now," Harry accused him. "You are usually willing to think the worst of Snape."

"Well, yeah ..." Ron smiled sheepishly. "I appreciate you, mate, but she _snogs_ me," he added, and his ears turned red.

Hermione scowled at him. "So you're just agreeing with me because I snog you?" she asked, annoyed. "You don't really think Snape could be offering Malfoy help on Dumbledore's orders?"

"I know it's a possibility, Hermione," Ron said, "but he made an Unbreakable Vow!"

"Yeah, that intrigues me," said Harry thoughtfully. "What happens if you break an Unbreakable Vow?"

"You die," answered Ron. "If Snape promised to help Malfoy, he will have to do so or he'll snuff it."

Hermione wanted to reply, but the truth was that she didn't have an explanation for the Unbreakable Vow part.

"Well, we'll see," she said simply, folding her arms.

"Yeah, we will," said Harry, and they fell silent for a while. Hermione took a book from her trunk and leant against Ron's shoulder.

"You're not going to read, are you?" he said from behind her.

"I _was_," she said. "Why?"

"When we arrive in London you'll be gone for at least a week, maybe more, if you don't come to my home for New Year's Eve."

"Well, what do you suggest we do, then?" she asked, sitting straight again.

"I don't know, we should patrol the corridors a bit, don't you think? I mean, we're prefects —"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Patrol the corridors," he repeated, watching Ron disbelievingly. "If you want to be alone so you can snog, you can say it."

"We _don't_," Hermione stated, glaring at Ron.

"Speak for yourself," he replied. "I don't find anything bad in snogging."

"Ron, that's very rude! We aren't going to leave Harry here all alone! Do you have to be so tactless?"

"I'm going to spend the entire Christmas with Harry!" he protested. "I just want to spend some time with you! Is that so bad?"

"It's okay, Hermione," interjected Harry, and she swallowed her retort and looked at him. "I'm sure I can spend some time with Neville and Luna ... maybe even Ginny."

Hermione stared at him, studying him.

"See, Hermione? Everything's all right. Besides, it's only for a while," said Ron, very pleased, who had obviously not noticed the hopeful tone in which Harry had said 'maybe even Ginny.'

"See you later," Harry said, smiling at them, and then left the compartment.

"Ron, that was inappropriate, and you know it," she said in a scolding tone. "We don't want Harry to feel left out!"

"Oh, Hermione, I just want half an — well, an hour alone with you. I mean, it is not fair, we got together last night and now we have to spend a lot of days apart. What if you change your mind and decide you're making the worst mistake of your life?" Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Ron didn't give her enough time. "I want to enjoy kissing you while I can."

"Ron, I'm not going to change my mind!" she almost shouted, offended. "I waited for you for about two years, why would I — Oh, you're making fun of me!" she said, slapping the arm of a smirking Ron and moving away from him.

"Sorry, it was too fun!" he said, laughing. "Besides, I owed you one for making me suffer yesterday, when I asked you if you wanted to be my girlfriend."

"You think you're very funny, do you?" she asked, frowning and folding her arms. "What if I spent the next hour reading instead of kissing you?"

"You wouldn't," he said, but he didn't seem very sure, and Hermione smiled inwardly. He looked so sweet and vulnerable when he looked like that.

"Oh, I definitely would!," she replied fiercely.

Ron stared at her, open-mouthed, and she remained where she was, looking at him defiantly.

"Oh, come on, you're just pretending to be angry at me."

"If you're so sure ..." she commented, and opened her book again, putting it in front of her so that she couldn't see his face, or he hers.

Ron didn't reply, and they sat there, silent, for a few minutes. Hermione tried to focus on the words in the book, but she couldn't. Finally, sighing with frustration, she lowered the book and saw Ron looking at her with an expression full of longing.

"I hope you're happy; you've made me so angry I can't even read," she told him, and folded her arms tightly across her chest.

Ron just stared at her, and she returned the stare. And then, without knowing how, they were embracing and kissing passionately.

"I've missed this," he said, grinning, when they parted, after two minutes of good snogging.

"So did I," she said, panting. She was pleasurably flushed and felt absolutely happy.

"Then why were you so reluctant?" he asked, taking her hand and squeezing it.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "It felt like ... shutting Harry out, or something like that."

"You know what?" he said, and she looked at his blue eyes, which were sparkling with content and happiness. "You need to listen to me more and loosen up a bit."

She didn't respond immediately, but continued just staring at him. Then she gave his hand a squeeze.

"I think you're right," she said, shocking him. "But only if you listen to me more about your homework," she added playfully.

"That would be good for me, I suppose," he said. "Boring, though," he added, playfully. "It's a deal, then?"

"It's a deal," she nodded, grinning, and extended her hand in a formal manner.

"Oh, come on!" he said. "Come here and kiss me."

She shook her head and moved backwards. "You said that you agreed with me because I snogged you," she commented, "and I don't want to do anything that would _force _you to say something you don't believe."

"I thought that girls wanted that from their boyfriends."

"We don't!" she replied. "_I don't_, at least. I want you to be you, Ron. I told you that yesterday," she said, becoming serious.

He smiled at her, and, taking her face between his hands, kissed her full on the mouth. She let out a moan of pleasure and surprise, and then responded with equal force, pushing him against the back of the seat.

They were so focused on each other that they didn't hear the door open.

"So Blaise was telling the truth," said a sneering voice. "The Mudblood and the Weasel are eating each other's mouths. Absolutely disgusting."

Both Hermione and Ron parted and looked at the doorway, where Draco Malfoy was watching them, an expression of utter disgust on his face. Crabbe and Goyle were behind him, smiling stupidly.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Ron yelled, his face turning red with anger.

"Fuck, Weasley, you have no pride at all. I thought that _even you_ could do better than a filthy Mudblood."

Ron drew his wand in an instant and pointed it at Malfoy's face. "Don't — call — her — that!" he threatened, and from the tip of his wand flew a few sparks. Draco retreated, his expression becoming serious.

"Enjoy her while you can, Weasley. Because when the Dark Lord takes over —" he said, lowering his voice and leaving the sentence purposely unfinished.

Hermione saw Ron's hand tremble with rage, and put a soothing hand over his shoulder. "Don't, Ron. He's not worth it."

Ron kept his wand pointed at Malfoy's face for a few moments, and then lowered it. "Yeah, he isn't. Fuck off, Malfoy. Go visit your father; he must feel so alone there in Azkaban."

Malfoy's face contorted in rage and he made an attempt to take his wand out, but Hermione drew hers quicker and pointed it at him. "Get out and leave us alone," she warned him.

Malfoy hesitated for a moment, and then relaxed and retreated. "Your time's almost over. Enjoy it while you can," he hissed, and then he left, Crabbe and Goyle following him.

Ron closed the door much more forcefully than was necessary and then dropped on the seat, fuming. "Stupid git! I should've broken his pathetic face!"

"Don't get upset, Ron. That's what he wants," Hermione said softly, sitting beside him and caressing his arm in a soothing way.

"That's easy to say," he replied.

"He doesn't seem very healthy, did you notice?" she commented, and bit her lower lip thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Well, he looks pale, and has bags under his eyes ..."

"He looked as repulsive as always to me."

"Umh ..." she bit her lower lip again.

"I find it incredibly sexy when you do that," blurted out Ron, staring at her mouth.

"What?" she said, turning pink and feeling suddenly embarrassed. "What are you talking about?"

"When you bite your lower lip in concentration," he explained. "It makes me want to kiss you and bite it myself."

She tore her eyes away from his, even more embarrassed, but not before noticing that his ears had also turned red. "You — you think I'm _sexy_?"

He looked at her, surprised. "Are you mad?" he said. "Why do you think I want to snog you all the time? So that I can write an essay about it?"

"Well, I know I'm not ugly —"

"Of course you aren't!" Ron shouted hotly.

"— but I had never thought about myself as 'sexy,'" she admitted.

"Because you're mental," he said plainly. "But perhaps that's one of the reasons you are sexy: because you don't think you are."

"That makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Ron replied.

"Well — thank you," she said, smiling shyly.

"I've only said the truth," he commented. "I mean — that's how I see you."

They fixed their eyes on the other's, and stared at each other for about a minute, simply enjoying the sight, until Hermione whispered, "Kiss me, Ron. Kiss me now."

Ron didn't need more encouragement. He moved quickly towards her, put his arms around her and crushed her lips with his, pushing her against the window. She closed her eyes and almost moaned due to the intensity of the kiss. She immediately put her arms around Ron's neck and tried to get him even closer to her. He thought she was _sexy_! The idea was so incredible, so exhilarating! And now she felt thoroughly warm and was totally enthralled by him and the passion he was pouring through this kiss. Merlin's beard, she wanted to kiss him forever ...

She had thought that the idea of being 'meant to be' was foolish and ridiculous. But now, being wrapped in his arms, being kissed by him, and feeling the affection and the adoration he felt towards her, the idea no longer felt ridiculous or foolish, but seemed right and entirely appropriate. Although maybe it really was a foolish idea ... maybe every couple felt like this in the first stages of a relationship ... maybe it was simply that she was in love and —

_Oh, Merlin! _she thought, opening her eyes and stopping the kiss so she could breathe properly. _I'm in love with him!_ she realised, looking at his flushed face and his pleased expression.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" he commented, panting. "You really have a wild side, haven't you?"

"Surprised?" she said, still amazed by her sudden realisation.

"Amazed," he admitted. "But I have no complaints!" he said, and both of them laughed happily.

"Well, I don't have any complaints, either," she declared, and leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss on the mouth.

"How long have we been here?" he asked her, checking his watch.

"About half an hour, I think," she answered.

"Do you think we should go and find Harry?"

She knew that they would, but she didn't want to. She needed time to think about these new feelings, yes — though maybe they weren't new, but had been there for a long time, repressed, and now were out of control — but she would have time for that over the holidays. Right now, she just wanted to be with him, and _only_ with him. It was a bit _weird_, because he was just _Ron_, her best friend, a boy who she had known for almost six years, since she was just a child of eleven. But, at the same time, it was perfectly natural, as if it was like it was supposed to be ...

"Do you want to?" she asked.

"Well, to tell the truth — no."

"I don't want to, either."

Ron looked at her, surprised. "You _don't_?"

"Why are you so shocked?" she asked, a bit offended. "Do you think I don't like spending time with you?"

"No, it's not that. In fact, taking into account those little noises you were making, I think you enjoy it pretty much," he said, with a smug smile, and she couldn't help blushing a little. "I simply thought that — well, we shouldn't leave him alone."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, thinking, and then noticed Ron's eyes were fixed on her mouth and realised what she was doing. She smiled.

"Well, I think Harry can manage another half an hour without us," she stated, smiling broadly.

He grinned back. "I'm a bad influence on you," he said.

"I know, but it's a bit late to change that, isn't it?" she said, and they both laughed.

"Yeah, a bit," he nodded. "Well, what do you want to do the next half an hour, then?" he asked.

"I think I have a good idea," she said, slowly getting closer to him. He beamed and opened his arms, and she settled between them, snuggling against his chest. "This feels so good," she couldn't help confessing.

"It does," he nodded, and, putting his hand under her chin, he lifted her face towards his and kissed her.

The moment she felt his lips on hers, she put her arms around his neck and pulled his lean, hard body against hers. He responded squeezing her even tighter and putting his tongue inside her mouth, something he had never done before.

The sensation of Ron's warm tongue inside her mouth was almost too much, and she couldn't help moaning again, trying to get even closer to him. Then, struck by a sudden inspiration, she sucked on his tongue and this time it was he who let out a moan.

Merlin's pants, _this_ felt incredible! Hermione couldn't understand why they had waited so long to do this. She felt tempted to express this idea out loud, but that would imply stopping the kiss, and it felt way too good to end it. No, she didn't want to stop kissing Ron; she wanted to kiss him forever.

And so this time she put her own tongue inside his mouth, where it was welcomed by his with frantic caresses that almost drove her crazy. They embraced each other even tighter and time lost its meaning.

o o o

"Merlin's beard, you both look as though you were hit in the head with a beater's bat!" exclaimed Ginny, when Ron and Hermione opened the door of the compartment were she, Harry, Neville and Luna were sitting, an hour later. "I don't want to think about what you must have been doing."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, and Ron's ears turned red. "Shut up, Ginny," he told her before dropping beside Harry. Hermione sat in front of him.

"Sorry for the delay, Harry," she said shyly, without looking at him in the eye.

"Don't worry," he answered dismissively. "All's well, then?"

"Yeah," said Ron, nodding, taking a Chocolate Frog from Harry's pile, because they had been too ... _occupied _when the witch of the food trolley had passed. "Except for Malfoy's visit, of course."

"Malfoy's visit?" Harry asked, suddenly very interested. "What did he do?"

"The usual," answered Ron, "Being an absolute arsehole, insulting me and Hermione —"

"Hermione and _me_," she corrected automatically.

"— and threatening us," Ron finished, ignoring her.

"He didn't look as smug as usual, though," commented Hermione. "He was a bit pale, to say the truth."

"Well, he surely is worried because Katie is alive and could wake up any moment and tell everyone that it was he who bewitched her," blurted Harry, clenching his fists.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, looking at them all in turn. "Are you saying that Malfoy is the one responsible for Katie being hurt?"

"Yes," said Harry hotly.

"We have no proof of that," answered Hermione at the same time. They looked at each other, and Harry glared at her.

"I told you what I heard," said Harry stubbornly. "You'll be eating your words, Hermione!"

Hermione refrained, with difficulty, from rolling her eyes. Ron was right; Harry was becoming obsessed with Malfoy.

"Harry, Draco Malfoy is an evil git," interjected Ginny. "But seriously, do you think he would be able to do something like that? Under Dumbledore's nose?"

"Someone did, didn't they?" argued Harry. "And Malfoy is the most logical suspect, what with him being a Death Eater and all that —"

"WHAT?" Neville and Ginny shouted together. Hermione exchanged a look with Ron. "What makes you think Malfoy's a Death Eater?" Neville asked, totally shocked.

Harry told them about his detour to Borgin and Burke's, his outburst when Madam Malkin had tried to lift his left sleeve, and the conversation he had overheard during the train ride to Hogwarts.

"Well?" Harry asked them, once he had finished. "What do you think?"

"I think you're right," said Luna. "He is a Malfoy," she explained. "All Malfoy males are into Dark Magic. Daddy once discovered that his grandfather, Abraxas, had developed a potion to force centaurs into submission, so he could create an army, but the Ministry hid it all."

"Well ... thanks, Luna," said Harry, blinking disbelievingly.

"I don't know, Harry," said Neville. "Malfoy's just sixteen years old."

"Yeah, and yet he's twisted and evil," interjected Ginny, "and he's always gloating about how You-Know-Who is going to take over, so it wouldn't surprise me much if he had something to do with Katie's attack," she concluded. "At least, it is pretty suspicious."

"That's what I say!" declared Harry eagerly, clearly feeling vindicated by Ginny's apparent support.

Hermione wanted to retort, but, as she didn't want to argue, remained silent, just like Ron, who avoided her eyes until the subject was dropped. With the discussion over, they decided to play several games of Exploding Snap.

The hours went by quickly, and soon the night had fallen and they were arriving in London.

"Well, see you next year," Neville and Luna said to the others, grabbing their trunks and exiting the compartment.

"Goodbye, Neville, Luna," said Harry. "Merry Christmas."

"So, are you going to come to The Burrow, Hermione?" Ginny asked, as they got out of the train.

"Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging. "I'll try to convince my parents. I'd love to go and spend New Year's Eve with you."

Once they had walked through the wall into the Muggle part of King's Cross, Hermione spotted her parents amongst the crowd. They were talking to Mr Weasley, who was there, accompanied by Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Bill and Dedalus Diggle. Hermione supposed they were there to protect Harry during the journey to The Burrow.

She began to walk towards the group. Her parents saw her and smiled.

"Hello, dear," her mother greeted her, enveloping her in a warm hug. She returned it wholeheartedly.

"Hi, Mum."

"Oh, Hermione, you've grown since last July," her father told her, before putting his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

"Just one inch, Dad," she said, smiling.

Hermione parted from her father and was greeted by Mr. Weasley and hugged by Tonks.

"How's the term been, boys?" Hermione's father asked Ron and Harry.

"Oh, rather ... interesting," said Ron, as his ears turned a bright shade of red.

"Yeah, interesting," confirmed Harry, trying not to laugh at Ron's obvious embarrassment.

"This little gathering its lovely, but we have to get going!" shouted Mad-Eye, and Hermione knew for sure that his magic eye was spinning under his hat so he could look all around him.

Hermione's father looked at him, a bit taken aback, and she felt bad. She wanted to tell them everything, but she couldn't. Maybe, one day, when the war had ended ...

"Well, see you, Hermione," said Ginny, hugging her. "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, Merry Christmas, Hermione," said Harry.

"I'll send you a letter, OK?" Ron told her. She nodded and then, after a moment of hesitation, he kissed her on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Ron," she told him, and kissed him back (on the cheek, too).

"Merry, Christmas, Mr and Mrs Granger," he added, and then the group parted, and Harry, Ginny, Ron and their guards were gone.

"Let's go home, then?" Hermione asked, looking at her parents.

"Let's go," said her dad, and the three of them began to walk towards the exit. Hermione noticed her mother was watching her, looking amused.

"What?" she asked, as they got out of the station and turned towards Pancras Road, where they had parked.

"I've never seen Ron kiss you before," she commented.

"Yeah, well ..." she muttered, blushing a little.

"I assume your date with him went well, then?" her mum insisted, as his father put her luggage in the car's boot.

"Well, it wasn't _exactly _a date," Hermione replied when she got into the car.

"When you wrote to us, I saw it as a date," her mother replied. "And, honestly, dear, the news brought me a bit of relief. You're seventeen and you have only had one date before —"

"Oh, Mum!" she protested. Despite what she had told Ron about her _mature _talks with her parents, she did not want to have this particular conversation.

"What?" her mother asked. "I mean, when I was seventeen, I used to date _all_ the time."

"That's something I don't need to hear, thanks," her father said.

"Oh, come on, William!" Hermione's mum exclaimed. "You weren't exactly a monk, were you? If I remember well, in the year since we met until we began to go out, you had _three _different girlfriends!"

"They weren't exactly girlfriends!" her father exclaimed, frowning. "They were — er —"

"Well, Hogwarts doesn't offer plenty of dating opportunities, you know," Hermione interjected, saving her father from the embarrassing moment. "And you know that I study very hard and I'm always busy ..."

"Yes, we know, and we're very proud of you. But you're an intelligent, caring and beautiful woman, Hermione. I'm sure you have a lot of boys lining up, waiting for a chance — apart from Ron, of course."

"I don't know if I want to know that, Jean," William Granger commented.

Hermione scoffed.

"I don't have plenty of boys waiting for me," said Hermione. "They see me just as a know-it-all."

"I'm sure that's not true," said her mother. Hermione didn't say anything, and her mother turned her head and looked at her. "Well, are you going to answer, then?"

"Answer?" asked Hermione, blinking.

"About the party, Hermione!"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, it went well. Beyond well, actually."

Hermione's mum beamed. "He kissed you then?"

"Actually, it was _I_ who kissed him. But I have to say that he responded rather eagerly ..." she said, and couldn't help a little smile.

"It's about time!" her mum yelled. "So you're together now?"

"We are," Hermione nodded.

"Now I understand why the poor boy seemed so embarrassed and afraid when he saw us," her father commented, and smiled. "Well, I'm glad it's Ron. He is a good boy, and from a good family. He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"He does," Hermione nodded, and smiled radiantly. "Very happy."

"Well, that's what matters," her mum said. "I'm so happy for you, Hermione."

"Thanks, Mum."

"Why don't you invite him to spend a few days with us?" her mum asked.

"I did, but Harry's going there, and — well, he can't leave The Burrow. There are protection enchantments around it and he's safe."

"That's a bit excessive, if you ask me," her father commented. "I understand that the poor boy lost his parents, and that some of the accomplices of that Lord — _Voldemort_, was the name?" he asked, glancing at her through the mirror. Hermione nodded, "want to kill him, but it happened fifteen years ago! Nobody has tried to kill him recently, have they?"

"No," lied Hermione, trying to maintain a straight face. She _really_ _hated_ lying to her parents, "but Dumbledore thinks it's safer this way, at least until he is seventeen."

"Well, it's a shame," said her mother.

"Ron invited me — well, us — to spend New Year's Eve at his house," Hermione said, a bit nervously. "He will send me a letter with a written invitation."

"Do you want to go?" her mother asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Well, your aunt Emily and your grandparents are coming for Christmas, but we don't have anything planned for New Years' Eve."

"We were invited to a party, but we can decline," said her father. "I think it would be interesting to spend it with a Wizarding family. I have the perfect present for Arthur: two or three old radiographies."

"He'll love them," commented Hermione, smiling.

"But we'll go only if Molly doesn't mind," her mother said. "They're already a lot of people and I don't want to cause her more trouble."

"All right," Hermione said, and leaned against the back of the seat, smiling happily, thinking that she would have to write Ron the moment they arrived home.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you liked the chapter. Next one, on Friday. See you!<em>


	3. Christmas Morning

_Thanks again to ObsessedRHShipper!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 3<strong>_

**Christmas Morning**

Hermione was awakened, on Christmas Morning, by an insistent tap on the window of her bedroom. Still sleepy and yawning, she sat up, brushed her eyes and looked at it to see what was making the noise.

It was Pig.

Smiling happily, she jumped out of the bed and opened the window, letting the freezing air from outside enter her bedroom for a moment. She shivered briefly and closed it again once Pig got in. Then she tried to get the package the little owl was carrying, but it was flying and hooting so happily around the room that she had to try three times before finally catching it.

"Calm down, Pig!" she ordered.

"Hermione?" came her mother's voice from another part of the house. "What's the matter, dear?"

"Nothing, Mum!" she yelled. "It's just Pig!"

Hermione offered a treat to the owl, opened the letter stuck to the package and began to read it eagerly.

_Dear Hermione:_

_Merry Christmas! I hope you're enjoying the holidays. Here at The Burrow, it's been calm so far — well, as calm as it can be with this silent fight between Fleur and Mum (and Ginny). The house is pretty busy — Fred and George are spending Christmas here — and it is absolutely impossible to get bored, so we've been entertained, although I miss you a lot._

_Well, I'm sending your gifts with this letter. I got you a second gift, because what I had originally picked up for you didn't look like a proper gift for a girlfriend. I didn't have a lot of time to make it, so it's not much, but I hope you like it._

_I'm very glad you're coming for New Year's Eve, but Mum is going to be a nightmare. She is ecstatic with the idea of you and your parents coming, but she has already hinted that she wants the house to look absolute impeccable, so I suppose the next days aren't going to be very fun._

_I can't wait to see you (and kiss you) again._

_Love,_

_Ron_

Hermione found herself grinning like an idiot. For heaven's sake, they had been going out for less than five days! She could not believe the effect Ron had on her. She had always found the giggling and how stupid some girls looked when they were with their boyfriends a bit ridiculous. Of course, she tried to ignore the little voice in her head, which sounded like Ron's, telling her that _she_ had drawn little hearts all around Lockhart's classes on her timetable (_I was twelve!_ she thought. _Thirteen,_ Ron's voice retorted, and she gave up.) But now she could _almost_ understand it. The feeling was so exhilarating that, for a moment, she even felt bad. Was it right to feel so happy when so many things were wrong, when so many horrible things were happening, and when people she had known, like Ollivander or Florean Fortescue, who was always so kind, were missing?

But her unhappiness wouldn't change those things, and, wasn't it better to feel like this, so she always had a reminder of why she was fighting and of why she had been putting her life in danger ever since she was a twelve year old? Yes, she knew that, when the moment came, she would fight harder if she knew that a future with Ron awaited her.

The sound of her mum calling her took her out of her thoughts.

"Hermione, breakfast is ready! Are you coming?"

"In a moment, Mum!" she yelled back, and began to open Ron's gift.

It was a simple drawing, enclosed in a frame made of vine wood, the same wood her wand was made of. The drawing had obviously been made by Ron itself, because, even though it had clearly been made with magic, the style was a bit childish. It was obvious that Ron would never earn money by selling drawings or paintings, but she couldn't help but fall in love with it.

The drawing showed the two of them: the figure of Ron with clearly exaggerated red hair, too much freckles and a very long nose, and hers with even bushier hair than she had. In the drawing, they were magically moving to represent different stages of their friendship. It began with Ron calling her _'Nightmare!'_, and then showed him dropping a club onto a troll's head while she cowered on the floor. Afterwards, the image changed to show Ron vomiting slugs while she patted him on the back and said, she noticed amusingly, _'my hero!_' The next scene portrayed them at the Yule Ball, where she was dancing with a very ugly and clumsy-looking Viktor Krum while Ron scowled, a few doodles representing smoke rising from his head. And then, finally, the last scene showed Hermione running at him and kissing him full on the mouth, while he looked comically awestruck for a moment before responding eagerly. Then, it started again.

It was so amusing, so sweet and so badly drawn ... It was all Ron, and she couldn't think of a better gift. She was going to put it on her bedside table, still smiling like an idiot, when she noticed a little piece of parchment stuck in the back of the frame. She removed it and read it.

_I know I'm not the world's greatest draftsman, but I hope you like it._

She didn't like it. She loved it.

She was still smiling when she went downstairs and entered the kitchen, where her mother was already sitting.

"Merry Christmas, dear," she said when she saw her.

"Merry Christmas, Mum."

"Don't you want to open your presents before breakfast?"

"I prefer to wait and do it when Dad comes. He is out for his Christmas morning walk, isn't he?" she asked.

"Yeah, he is," her mother answered, ant looked out of the window. "He'll be back soon; he left half an hour ago."

Hermione poured herself some tea in a mug and took a few pieces of toast. Her father liked to go out for a walk every Christmas morning. It was a tradition he had maintained for as long as she could remember, even when they spent the holidays in another place. She used to go with him when she was little, but the last time she had done so was when she was twelve, during the Christmas of her first year at Hogwarts. And thinking about that, she realised this was the first time she spent Christmas at home since that time.

She looked up at her mother, who was watching her intently.

"Are you sad because he didn't wait for you to go with him?" she asked.

"No," she said, but, as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she was lying. She loved those walks with her dad, watching the houses, early in the morning, usually covered by snow, and the families getting ready to spend Christmas Day. She realised that she missed this, but the last time she had done it was so long ago that she had forgotten her father had that habit.

"You are," her mother replied. "Why didn't you tell him last night? I'm sure he would have been glad to share the walk with you, like old times. He didn't tell you anything because —" she hesitated, "— well, you've spent your last four Christmas away, and he didn't know if you still liked that. I mean, you're a grown woman now."

"I — I forgot he did that," she confessed, lowering her head and looking down at her steaming tea, a bit ashamed. Then she looked up. "I'm sorry, Mum. I know I didn't spend a lot of time with you these last years."

Her mother shrugged. "Well, I won't lie to you; we've missed you a lot. But we understood, when you went to Hogwarts and began to write letters about how wonderful magic was, and how at last you had good friends that liked and understood you, that we had lost you a bit and that you were off to great and better things. We're very proud of you, Hermione. You have good friends now, and we know that the Weasleys can understand you in ways we never could. It hurts a bit, but we've accepted that," her mother finished, and smiled reassuringly at her.

"You've always understood me," Hermione replied, for her mum's sake, because, deep inside, she knew very well that that wasn't true, and that was the reason she had never told them anything about Voldemort. Of course, she had told them about Sirius (without mentioning the part where they had almost lost their souls to the Dementors), and they had known about her being petrified and Harry and Ron saving her (again, without too much detail), but she had never told them anything about Cedric, or about Lord Voldemort returning.

"You know that's not true, dear," her mother said. "We don't really understand magic. But you are happy, and that's what matters to us. And now," she added, with a much more cheerful tone, "are you going to tell me what Ron gave to you as a gift?"

She thought about the picture and couldn't help but smile. She explained to her mother what it was, and her mother laughed when she told her about the different scenes portrayed in the drawing.

"Well, it is an unusual gift, that's for sure. But I think it's sweet. I mean, he did it himself, didn't he? And it's a gift that only you can appreciate. That shows how much he cares for you."

"I know," she said.

They kept chattering about mundane things and enjoying their breakfast for a few minutes until they heard the front door open. A minute later, William Granger walked into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," he said, smiling at her daughter. "It's freezing out there; I need a good cup of tea."

"I've made it two minutes ago, dear; it's still hot."

"Good," he said, helping himself to a large cup. He took a good sip and sighed contentedly. Then he put down the cup and looked at the women in his life.

"It's wonderful that we are together for Christmas," he commented. "I've almost forgotten the last time." He looked at Hermione. "Have you opened your presents?"

"We wanted to wait for you," said Hermione.

"Yeah, we must be the only family in Britain to open presents _after_ breakfast," commented Hermione's mother with a smile.

"You know I have to go for a walk before having breakfast and opening presents," he said.

"Well, Hermione already opened one of hers," her mother commented.

"Yeah? Whose?"

"Ron's, of course," her mother responded, while Hermione brought her mug to her lips to drink.

"And what is it?" her father asked, looking at her, very interested. "It isn't sexy underwear or something like that, is it?"

Hermione choked and started to cough loudly, sputtering tea all over the table.

"DAD!" she yelled, mortified, and coughed again. "Of course — COUGH — not!"

The mere idea of Ron buying her underwear — and especially, sexy underwear — was so ridiculous that she would have started laughing if she hadn't be so embarrassed. Ron would never do that; he surely would die of embarrassment. Besides, they had been together for just a few days; he wouldn't do anything that suggested that he _might_ see her in her underwear anytime soon. Because, definitely, he _wasn't_ going to see her in her underwear anytime soon.

_Oh, God! Does he think about _that_? _she couldn't help thinking_. Well, of course he does. He's a _boy_, isn't he? _She shook her head. It was not the moment to think about things like that, while she was in the kitchen with her parents.

"Sorry, dear," her father said, looking sheepish. "I didn't know what I was thinking."

"Don't say anything like that ever again," Hermione scolded him.

"Don't be so embarrassed, Hermione," her mother told her. "I mean, you're seventeen now."

"We've been together for _five days_!"

"I know. I'm not telling you to have sex with him soon —"

"She'd better not!" her father interjected hotly.

"— but well, it is something normal, and nothing to be ashamed of," her mother finished, ignoring her husband's outburst.

"Can we change the subject, please?" Hermione pleaded, flushing crimson and looking down at her uneaten breakfast.

"Good idea," her father agreed.

While they finished their breakfast, Hermione told her father what the actual gift Ron had sent her was, and then talked about what she had got for him and Harry. Afterwards, they went into the living room, where the Christmas tree was, and the three of them began to open their presents.

She began with Harry's, who had sent her a book, _The Greatest Witches in Modern History, Deluxe Edition_. She smiled fondly, understanding the disguised compliment her friend was giving her. After admiring it for a bit, caressing its cover, she put it down and opened Ginny's.

"A _Sweeteeth Dental Kare Kit_ from Honeydukes!" her father yelled, delighted. "Thank you, Hermione! I love it!"

"I know, that's why I bought it for you," she said, smiling, while she finished opening Ginny's present, which consisted of a little book titled _'Understanding your Wizard: Is He Acting like a Git or Is He Being Clueless as a Troll?' _Hermione laughed, shaking her head.

Next one was Mr and Mrs Weasley's. She opened it and, after seeing it, she froze, feeling surprised, delighted and, above all, touched.

It was a Weasley jumper.

Although Mrs Weasley always made a jumper for Harry, like for her own children, she had never given Hermione one. She usually received a delicious cake, but she had always — secretly — craved a jumper. Ron had told her once that his mother made one for Harry because Harry had no parents, and his aunt and uncle didn't care about him, and, as she did have her mum and dad, Mrs Weasley didn't feel comfortable giving her a hand-knitted jumper. But here it was now, a true Weasley jumper, soft and warm between her fingers. It was grey with black horizontal stripes, it was _absolutely_ Weasley, and she loved it. She knew that this was Mrs Weasley's way of welcoming her to the family, and she couldn't be happier.

Her last present was the one from her parents, who had brought her some new Muggle clothes, a collection of books and a new radio for her bedroom.

She kissed both her parents to thank them, and the three sat, relaxed, on the couch.

"What time are Aunt Emily, granddad and grandma arriving?"

"At three o'clock, I think," her father answered.

"Are you going to help me cook?" her mother asked her.

"Well, I'm not a great cook," Hermione answered.

"Neither am I," her mother said. "But it'll be more fun if we do it together."

"I suppose it'll be okay as long as Dad cooks the turkey," Hermione commented, smiling.

"I will," nodded her father, smiling proudly. "No one cooks it like me, after all." He looked at the watch and stood up. "Well, time for a bit of reading," he announced, and took the book he was currently reading, _The Name of the Rose_.

"I'm going to sort the books in the office and put the old ones in boxes," her mother said. "Do you want to help me?"

"Of course, Mum."

The two women walked out the drawing room, along the corridor and entered the room at the end. It was a medium-sized room, with a desk and three bookcases filled with all kinds of books, but especially about dentistry and dental care. There was a computer on the table, surrounded by six or seven books. In a corner, there were two empty boxes.

The Grangers were very fond of books and reading, something Hermione had picked up. They bought so many books during the year that, every Christmas, they had to pack some of them in boxes and take them to the attic to make room for the new ones that would come along the next year.

Hermione's mother told her what books would go to the attic, and they began to work.

"So tell me, dear, how is Harry? Is he okay with you and Ron being together?" she asked after a bit.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm fairly sure he knew, or suspected, that something was going on between us all this time."

"Well, a blind person could see that, dear," her mother laughed.

"It seems Ron couldn't," Hermione replied. "God, he's clueless ..."

"He's a boy, Hermione," her mother commented, amused. "They're _all_ clueless. But, speaking seriously, can I give you some advice?" she asked.

"Of course," said Hermione putting the book she was holding, _Greek Mythology: Gods and Heroes_ (which she remembered reading during her first summer holidays after going to Hogwarts) in its place (ordered alphabetically, of course), and stared at her mother, intrigued.

"Be careful, okay, you and Ron —"

"MUM!" Hermione yelled, almost offended. "We're not —"

"I know, I know, dear, calm down!" her mother said, moving her hands up and down in a calming gesture. "I didn't mean that. I was referring to Harry. You and Ron must be careful and not leave him alone too much."

"We won't," Hermione said quickly. "He's our best friend, Mum; you know he's like my brother. Besides, he's the only one Ron can talk to about Quidditch."

"I know you both have the best of intentions, but I know how love can take over your life, especially young love. You won't want to do anything else but snog each other all the time."

"No, I won't," Hermione said stubbornly, turning a bit pink. But it was a lie and she knew it. She had been away from Ron only three days, and she found herself all the time thinking about his mouth, his kisses and the feeling of his arms around her. She had waited for so long to have him that now she couldn't get enough of him, and denying it was useless. She picked up another book so she didn't have to look at her mother.

"You know that's a lie. You've been through too much together, and have had those unrequited feelings for a long time. You will want to spend any moment with him, and he'll be the same. But that's not a bad thing," her mother added. "In fact, it's one of the best things about being in love. Enjoy it, but don't abandon Harry. The poor boy has already suffered too much, having those horrible people as relatives."

"I admit that, right now, I want to be with Ron all the time," conceded Hermione, "but honestly, Mum, I can control myself."

Her mother laughed. "Maybe you can, but I doubt Ron could."

"I have to agree with you on that," said Hermione, laughing too.

"And well, now that we are talking about Harry ... how's he?" her mother asked. "Does he still fancy that girl — what was her name — Cho?"

"No," answered Hermione. "They didn't get along very well."

"And there isn't another girl?"

"I think he fancies Ginny now."

"Ginny? Ron's sister?" Jean Granger asked, surprised. Hermione nodded. "Didn't you tell me she had a crush on him since the first time she saw him?"

"She had," Hermione answered. "But now she's going out with Dean Thomas, who is also in Gryffindor and in my year."

"And Harry likes her now?"

Hermione laughed. "Mum! When did you become such a gossip?"

"Well, _everyone_ likes a bit of gossip every now and then," she defended herself. "Besides, I like to know what's happening in your life, and I love talking to you."

"All right," Hermione nodded, sighing amusedly. "Ginny has become pretty popular these last two years. You saw her: she's very pretty, fiery, funny ... all that. Harry hasn't told me anything, but I've seen the way he looks at her sometimes. I think he has begun to see her as a girl and not just as Ron's little sister."

"So the tables have turned, haven't they?" smiled her mother, placing some volumes of an old encyclopedia about dentistry in one box. "Now it is Harry who's pining after her."

"Well, I wouldn't say he's pining ..." said Hermione. "Oh, I hope they get together," she added, sighing. "I have nothing against Dean, but I'm sure Ginny still likes Harry. It would be wonderful; she could cheer Harry up."

They fell silent, Hermione checking the new books her parents had acquired and her mother closing the now full boxes.

"And what about classes, dear?" her mother asked after a while. "Still the first in everything?" she said, looking up at her and smiling proudly.

Hermione frowned. "Well, Harry found a stupid copy of our potions book which belonged to someone else. It's filled with shortcuts and non-approved alternate ways to make potions, and is getting a lot of credit he doesn't deserve because of it," she said bitterly.

"What's wrong with using alternate ways to make potions?" her mother asked, staring at her.

"They're not tested or approved, and he's not using his own work! He's _cheating_!" she yelled.

"Mmh," her mother said, frowning. Hermione glared at her.

"You've always told me that cheating is the lowest thing a student can do! That doing exams well means _nothing_ if you don't learn!"

"Yes, dear, and I believe it wholeheartedly, but I'm not sure he's cheating. I mean, he's following instructions, isn't he? They could be wrong and become a disaster. Maybe the previous owner of the book was a better potion-maker than the author, or even than your potions master."

"That's what Ron said, but I still think —"

"Hermione, are you sure you aren't angry just because Harry is getting better marks than you?"

"NO!" she yelled, offended. "Of course not! Harry has done better than me in Defence Against the Dark Arts and that doesn't annoy me. But now he's getting better grades when he doesn't really understand what he's doing."

"Well, in the final exam he won't have the book, will he?"

"No, he won't."

"That's settled, then," said her mother. "In the exam he will get the grades he deserves."

"I still don't like it," insisted Hermione, folding her arms and sitting in one of the chairs.

"You don't have to be the best at everything, dear," said her mother with a smile. "I was like you, you know, until I learnt to loosen up a bit. I became happier."

"I _know_ how to loosen up a bit, Mum. Ron and Harry know very well how to loosen me up, especially Ron."

"Good. You need to relax a bit every now and then, dear."

"I know how to relax, Mum. But I am a hard-worker. I don't want to fail my exams. I want to do my best," she added fiercely.

"Hermione, you know your father and I are very proud of you. We know you work hard, and we like it, but I don't know ... sometimes I feel a bit guilty," she added, sitting on the other chair and facing her daughter.

"Guilty?" Hermione asked, a bit shocked. "Why?"

"Sometimes I think that maybe we put a lot of pressure on you."

"NO!" Hermione said, shaking her head. "Mum, you both passed onto me your fondness of books and this thirst for knowledge, and I am very grateful for that."

"I know. But — I don't know. I mean, last year you missed Christmas because you wanted to stay at school and study." Hermione tried to maintain a straight face. That had not been, after all, the _true_ reason she had not come home. "I know OWLs are very important, and both your father and I were very proud when you told us you had got eleven, ten of them 'Outstanding', but you don't need to work so hard. You have to enjoy your life while you're young."

"I enjoy my life, Mum, seriously," Hermione assured, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. "Harry and Ron make sure I don't work too much, and I'm very grateful for having them and for how they help me have some fun, especially Ron, with his stupid jokes." She grinned, and her mother did the same. "I would never tell them _that_, of course."

"We're grateful, too. You've never had true friends before going to Hogwarts. And sincerely, those two first months there, we were very worried. You were only twelve, and you kept saying how wonderful magic was in every letter, but we could tell you were miserable, and that you felt lonely. And then, when you wrote to us about Harry, Ron and you becoming friends ... Well, that we were happy and relieved would be an understatement, even though it was very odd that your two best friends were two boys."

"That's why I work so hard," Hermione confessed, looking at the floor. "When I went to Hogwarts, I knew nothing about magic. It was a world I had never seen, and there were people there that had been born into it. I felt strange and a bit lost. I worked — and still do — so hard because I wanted to demonstrate to everyone that I belonged there."

"You belong there, dear. You're a witch."

"Not everyone thinks that way," Hermione replied. "You remember that blond man in Flourish and Blotts, four years ago, don't you?"

"The one that had a fight with Arthur?"

"Exactly. They believe that Muggleborns shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts."

"Don't mind them. A person's worth depends on what a person does, not on what their parentage is. The people who really matter know this and know you, Hermione."

"I know. Ron told me that no one deserved to go to Hogwarts more than me, the night of the party," she said, blushing slightly.

"That was a very sweet thing to say," her mother said, nodding and smiling. "And he knows you better than anyone."

"I wanted to snog him senseless when he said that."

"You could have done it."

"I did."

Both women laughed.

"You really miss him, don't you?"

"Yes. Well, both of them, actually, Ron and Harry. They would do anything for me."

"That's why your father and I like them so much," her mother said. She stood up. "Do you want to continue this conversation in the kitchen, in front of a good cup of tea?"

"I'd love to," Hermione said, also standing up. She looked around. "But what about the boxes?"

"That's your father's job. He'll take them to the attic later." She put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "I'm glad you're here, Hermione, and proud of the woman you've become."

Hermione beamed at her mother and hugged her. "I'm glad, too. And I became who I am because I had the luck of having you and Dad as my parents."

"Love, you have work waiting for you," her mother told her dad when then walked into the drawing room. He looked up from his book. "Two boxes."

"Okay, then. Where are you two going?"

"To have a well-deserved cup of tea."

"I'll have one too once I have carried the boxes to the attic," he said. Then he got to his feet and disappeared down the corridor.

Hermione and her mother entered the kitchen, and, while her mother prepared the kettle, she sat on a chair.

"OH, F— DAMNED BOX!" came the voice of William Granger from the other side of the house, startling them.

Both women stared at each other for a moment and started running towards the office. They stopped dead in the doorway, and almost burst into laughter upon seeing their man hopping on one foot and clutching the other, his face contorted in pain.

"What happened?" his wife asked.

"The box fell on my foot," he whined. "They're too heavy."

Hermione looked at the boxes and a sudden realisation came to her. She slapped herself on her forehead. "I'm stupid! I'm seventeen now; I can do magic!"

She exited the office and ran up to her room, retrieved her wand and looked at it, smiling. She could do magic staying with her parents. She could show them what she could do. And in seven days, she would see Ron again. Her smile broadened.

"Life can really be wonderful," she muttered as she hurried down the stairs to levitate those boxes to the attic.

* * *

><p><em>No Ron in this chapter, I know, but I needed to write about Hermione's parents and her relationship with them.<em>

_Next chapter, on Monday!_


	4. New Year's Eve

_Thanks again to **ObsessedRHShipper** for her excellent work correcting my mistakes.**  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 4<strong>_

**New Year's Eve**

The snow was falling with terrible force over Bedford. The roofs and streets were covered in a white layer and almost no one could be seen outside. Inside the room, Hermione had just finished packing and was currently listening to her new radio, and looking out of the window, wrapped in her new Weasley jumper. The storm had begun yesterday afternoon, and, after an hour, her dad had said that it would be impossible to get to Ottery St. Catchpole the next day, since it was snowing like this. Hearing that had been like a blow to Hermione, who wanted, more than anything, to go to The Burrow and see Ron again.

Fortunately, the Weasleys had thought about it too, because that evening, Mr Weasley had Apparated to their front door, and had told them that, if they wanted, he could arrange a temporary connection of their fireplace to the Floo Network, so they could travel to The Burrow safely. Hermione had barely refrained from hugging him upon hearing this news.

And now here she was, waiting for him to Apparate so they could travel to The Burrow. She looked at her bedside table, where the drawing Ron had given her kept playing those scenes of their lives, and smiled. In half an hour, she would be with him, maybe even kissing him! Wasn't life wonderful?

Still smiling, she turned off the radio, grabbed her things and climbed down the stairs. Her parents were watching TV, both sitting on the couch, but her father seemed not to be paying too much attention to the programme they were watching, because he kept glancing at the clock every twenty seconds or so. They were rather nervous, because they had never travelled by Floo before.

"Are you ready, honey?" her mother asked, turning her head to look at her.

"Yes, Mum. And you? Are you two nervous?"

"No," her dad answered, too quickly.

"It's okay, Dad. I've done it before and it is quick and painless," she assured, sitting beside him.

"Yeah, but travelling _through a fireplace _... Isn't there another way?"

"A Portkey, but maybe it was impossible, due to the enchantments protecting The Burrow. And Apparating, but that could be even worse."

"You go to Hogwarts in a train. Isn't there a normal way like that to travel for wizards?"

"Well, using the Floo Network is _normal_ for wizards, you know. But well, there are also broomsticks, but with this weather ... And I don't like them."

"No, broomsticks are _definitely_ not an option," her father stated.

They simply sat there for a while, until Hermione's dad said, "I didn't practise to improve my singing abilities this year."

"What did you have to practise for?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him.

"Well, dear, you know your father is the number one fan of _Auld Lang Syne —_"

Hermione laughed. "Ah, that! Don't worry, Dad, in the Wizarding World no one starts the year singing _Auld Lang Syne_," she informed them. "At least, I never heard anyone singing it."

"What?" he asked, taken aback and disappointed. "Why not? You _do_ sing Christmas carols, don't you?"

"Well, yes," Hermione nodded, thinking of the bewitched singing armours at Hogwarts, "but _Auld Lang Syne_ ..." she shook her head. "Sorry, Dad."

"But I sing that song _every year_!"

"Well, I suppose you could do it," Hermione said, shrugging. "As it is a Muggle tradition, I'm sure Mr Weasley will love it."

"But I don't want to sing it alone! The whole point of that song is to sing it with other people!"

Five minutes later, the flames in the fireplace turned emerald green, and Mr Weasley stepped out of the fire, throwing ash onto the carpet.

"Good afternoon!" he said brightly, brushing his robes. "Sorry for the mess, I will clean it in an instant." And, with a sweeping movement of his wand, the ash vanished, leaving the drawing room as clean as before.

"Good afternoon, Mr Weasley," greeted Hermione, beaming, before her parents did the same.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, and Hermione pointed at their things, neatly placed in a corner. "Perfect! I'll send it all to The Burrow, then." He made another gesture with his wand, and everything disappeared. "Let's go, shall we?" he told them. "Are you ready?"

"I'm not very sure, actually," admitted Hermione's dad. "Surely nothing will happen, Arthur?"

"Yes, pretty sure," Mr. Weasley answered. "Just say your destination clearly and you won't have any problem. It'll take only a few seconds."

"I'll go first," said Hermione's mum. She walked to the fireplace, and Mr. Weasley stepped back and gave her a handful of Floo powder. "Don't be afraid, Jean."

Taking a deep breath, she threw the powder to the fire, the flames turned green again, and, after a moment of hesitation, she stepped into the fireplace.

"They're cold!" she exclaimed, shocked. "And they tickle! The Burrow!" she shouted, and then she vanished.

"See? Piece of cake," commented Mr. Weasley.

Sighing, Hermione's dad did the same as his wife, and soon he also disappeared.

Hermione turned off the lights and the TV and made sure the front door was closed.

"Go ahead," Mr Weasley told her. "I'll put out the fire and Apparate."

"Okay, thanks, Mr Weasley."

Hermione stepped into the fireplace and, after shouting "The Burrow," she felt herself travel through the maze of fireplaces until she went out of the fireplace of The Burrow. She coughed and brushed the ash off her clothes and hair, and looked around. Mrs. Weasley was there, greeting her parents, who were thanking her for the invitation. Fleur and Bill were beside her.

"Hermione!" Ginny yelled, hugging her. "Welcome! I'm glad you're here; it's horrible being the only girl. Honestly, I'm already sick of _Phlegm_," she added in a low voice, and Hermione laughed.

A second later, Ron and Harry descended the stairs. Ron saw her and beamed.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Granger," he said politely, shaking their hands.

Hermione's mother laughed. "Hi, Ron. You don't have to be so formal, you know," she said, and Ron's ears turned red. Behind Mrs Weasley's back, Fred and George exchanged a mischievous look.

_That's not good_, Hermione thought.

Then, Ron walked towards her and embraced her tightly, whispering in her ear, "I've missed you _a lot_."

"Me too," she responded. "By the way, thanks for your gift. It was really, really special, Ron. I love it."

"You're welcome," he said, pleased with himself. "I loved your gift, too. Seven _new_ Muggle T-shirts! They're great! None of them is maroon, and there's one that is _orange_! I love them," he added, lowering his voice.

Hermione laughed again, and they parted at the same moment the front door opened and Mr Weasley walked inside, brushing the snow off himself.

"I see you're all right," he commented, surveying the room. "Good."

"Hey, Hermione," said Harry, smiling. "Thanks for your gift."

"Thanks for yours," she responded. "I've already read it. It is fascinating."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Hermione, dear, how are you?" asked Mrs Weasley, smiling and hugging her while Mr Weasley talked to the Grangers. "Did you like the jumper?" she asked, seeing that she was wearing it.

"I love it. Thank you very much, Mrs Weasley. It means so much to me."

"It's nothing, dear. I'm so glad it's you —" she added, and Hermione knew she was talking about her being Ron's girlfriend. "I hoped, you know, but wasn't completely sure. Ron couldn't have found a better girl."

"Thanks," she said, turning pink. "I'm glad, too."

"Ron, Harry, could you please take the Grangers' luggage to our bedroom?"

"Your bedroom?" Jean Granger asked, taken aback. "Where are you going to sleep, then?"

"Oh, we'll be fine in the drawing room," Mr Weasley said. "Don't worry."

"No, no, no!" Hermione's dad said, shaking his head. "We can't allow that. This is your home, and it's a lot of trouble. We'll just go back home afterwards. This _Floo powder_ stuff is pretty quick —"

"It's no trouble!" Mrs Weasley protested. "Besides, the connection lasts only for an hour, and they won't establish another until tomorrow afternoon. Seriously, don't worry!"

"Molly, I feel very bad for this. We didn't mean to cause trouble at all."

"No trouble!" insisted Mr Weasley. "I'll love having you here. We all love Hermione, and — well, you know, you're Muggles. It'll be so much fun."

Hermione's parents sat down, defeated. Seeing that the argument was settled, Ron and Harry picked up their luggage.

"I'll put this in Ginny's room, then?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, dear, as always."

The three of them took everything and began to climb up the stairs, glad for having a reason to be alone for a while.

"I see your mother is coping well, Ron," she commented once they had put the things in Mr and Mrs Weasley's bedroom and were walking towards Ginny's room. "I mean, after Percy's visit."

"She's managing," Ron said, shrugging, and then frowned and muttered, "Git."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "He didn't want to make amends then?" she asked.

"Well, you don't know the whole story," Ron said, scowling. "We couldn't put it in our letters."

"Let's go to your room, Ron," suggested Harry.

"Yeah, let's go," he nodded.

Once there, Harry sat down on his bed and Hermione and Ron sat on Ron's.

"What's happened that you couldn't put in the letters?" Hermione asked, very intrigued.

"Percy didn't come alone," said Ron to her.

"Yeah, he came with Rufus Scrimgeour," added Harry, and Hermione opened her mouth wide in awe.

"WHAT! He came with the Minister for Magic? Why?"

"Well, basically, he wanted to talk to me, to try to convince me to be the Ministry's pet, so they could make people think they're winning the war, and that they have the 'Chosen One' working for them."

"You're joking!" Hermione yelled, outraged. "After everything the _Daily Prophet_ wrote last year? After the hearing? _After Umbridge_?" Hermione couldn't believe it. The nerve of them!

"Yeah."

"And he used Percy to come here, saying that they were 'working in the area' and that he wanted to see his family; Percy surely was too happy to help him, being the creep he is." Ron took a piece of parchment from his bedside table and threw it against the wall in anger. "Last year he didn't want anything to do with us, because we were 'traitors to the Ministry' and now he's using us to progress at work."

"I'm sorry," she said, patting his thigh. She turned towards Harry. "What did you say to the Minister?"

"I told him I was Dumbledore's man, through and through, and that I didn't like to be used."

"Well done," she said approvingly, and he smiled.

"Has anything else happened?" she asked. "I don't receive the _Daily Prophet_ at home; I don't want Mum and Dad to see it."

"The usual," Ron said. "Another missing person, two more shops had closed in Diagon Alley ... stuff like that. But let's not talk about bad stuff, shall we?" He looked at Harry. "Didn't you have — something to do?"

"Eh?" he said, blinking. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed. "We'll see you downstairs, okay?" he said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him in just a second.

"Ron! That was —" But she couldn't finish her sentence, because Ron was already bent over her and kissing her with all his heart and soul. Shocked, she stayed still for a moment, before responding with equal ferocity. When his tongue brushed her lips, she welcomed it inside her mouth, caressing it with hers and eliciting a moan from Ron.

"Whoa, I needed that," he said, smiling like an idiot, once he had parted from her, after a five-minute snog. "That was wonderful!"

"It was," agreed Hermione, knowing that she had the same smile upon her face that Ron had on his. "But what you said to Harry was very rude."

"He'll survive," Ron said. He stared at her. "You really liked my gift?"

She beamed at him. "I've told you, I love it. It was incredible, Ron." She smiled mischievously at him. "May I thank you properly?"

"You may," he said, in a mock solemn voice, and the next second they were kissing frantically again.

She pushed him a bit, and he lay down slowly on the bed, with her bent over him. She could feel Ron's hands on the small of her back, gently caressing her, and she became suddenly warm. It was an incredible feeling. How could she have survived until now without _this_?

Ron's hands began to move faster, and, suddenly, she felt his right one on her bum. She stopped kissing him immediately, a bit shocked, and raised her head to look at him.

"Sorry!" he said, taking his hand off her backside as if her skin burnt, utterly embarrassed, his ears a deep shade of red. "Sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean —"

"It's okay."

"— to touch you like that. Please, don't be angry; it was an accident," he spluttered.

"Ron!" he fell silent at once and stared at her. "It's okay. I'm not annoyed."

"You aren't?"

"No."

"Good," he said, relieved, and smiled. She smiled back and a moment later, they were kissing again. He kept his hands still for a minute or two before he began to move them again over her back. A while later, he moved the right one downwards, over her bum again, grabbing it softly. She almost let out a moan, but she refrained and stopped kissing him again.

"When I told you it was okay, I wasn't giving you permission to grope me at every chance you've got!" she said, not really angry.

"Oh!" he said, mortified, and took his hand off her arse. "Sorry! It's that — well, it's so ... _soft_," he muttered apologetically.

Hermione stared at him, and then laughed. "I'm sure it is," she commented. Then she put a serious expression on her face. "Ron, can you not do it again? At least for now. I mean, it made me feel — well, good, but I'm not comfortable with that yet."

"Yeah, yeah, Hermione. Don't worry. I won't do it again," he said quickly. "Although you can grope me as much as you want," he added, smirking.

"I'll bear that in mind," she said, and smiled warmly.

"And now that you say that, we should go downstairs," he said, his face showing clearly that _he_ didn't want to go downstairs. "We've been here, alone, for at least ten minutes, and our parents are in the house. In fact, my mother told me very clearly she didn't want any 'funny business' going on ..."

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione muttered, mortified. "She didn't!"

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction," Ron nodded, getting up. "It could have been worse, though," he added. And when she looked questioningly at him, he said, "She could have said it in front of Fred and George."

"Good point," Hermione nodded.

Ron and Hermione climbed down the stairs. Everyone was in the drawing room, chattering randomly and sitting here and there. Mrs Weasley looked up at them when she heard them on the stairs.

"Ah, there you are! I was going to ask Ginny to go up and ask you if you wanted tea."

Hermione understood at once that, if Ron and she spent more than five minutes together alone in a room, someone was going to ask them if they wanted tea.

"Yeah, I want tea," said Ron, trying not to blush, because everyone was staring at them.

After everyone had had tea, Mrs Weasley retreated to the kitchen to continue with the dinner preparations, and Hermione's mother accompanied her, both talking animatedly. Hermione's dad, meanwhile, was having a conversation with Mr Weasley, who seemed absolutely delighted with the radiographies Hermione's father had given him, and was now eagerly asking question after question about them.

"It's stopped snowing," Fred commented, looking out of the window. "Who fancies a snowball fight?"

Ginny and Harry said yes at once.

"Me too!" said Ron excitedly. "You coming?" he asked Hermione.

"I don't know; it's too cold," she responded.

"It's not that cold," he replied. "Come on; it'll be fun!"

She smiled, and went up to grab her coat and gloves. When she climbed down the stairs, Fred, George, Ginny, Harry and Ron were already outside, so she exited the house and joined them in the courtyard. Fred and George spotted her and smirked dangerously. She frowned automatically.

"So, tell us, Hermione," began to say Fred. "What happened to you this year?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Leave her alone," said Ron, scowling. "I thought we had come for a snowball fight?"

"We mean that we considered you an intelligent person," added George, ignoring Ron.

"_I am_ an intelligent person."

"Then was it a Love Potion?" asked Fred.

"A _Confundus_ Charm?" guessed George.

"I don't get what you're trying to say," she lied defiantly. Beside her, Ron's face was becoming red with anger.

"Well, you see, it's that we can't imagine why you would want to snog Ron if he hasn't bewitched you," explained Fred.

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Ron, clenching his fists. Harry was watching the word exchange, trying to maintain a straight face. Ginny, on the other hand, was smiling.

"Nobody has bewitched me," Hermione replied, now openly scowling at the twins.

"Then have you suffered brain damage?" asked Fred.

"Become blind?" suggested George.

"Gone mad?" added Fred.

George was going to add something more, but was silenced when a big snowball thrown by Ron hit him squarely in the face.

"OUCH!" he yelled, brushing his face.

"I told you to shut up!" Ron shouted angrily, and threw another snowball at Fred, who, wary, stopped it with a flick of his wand.

"That's cheating!" said Harry. "You can't use your wands! We're still underage!"

"But I'm not," said Hermione dangerously, and, taking out her wand, she made several perfectly spherical snowballs and made them chase Fred and George all around the courtyard.

They managed to stop some of them, but Hermione's spellcasting was too good, and soon they were covered in snow. Ron was cackling madly.

"SERVES YOU RIGHT!" he yelled at them.

"Yeah, well, you must be so proud," commented Fred, trying to get out the snow that had entered his ears, "your girl has to defend you."

Ron's laughter died away instantly and he looked furious again. He threw himself at Fred and both of them rolled over the snow, trying to stuff some of it into the other's mouth. Harry and Ginny were now laughing, too. Hermione shook her head.

"Honestly, can't you behave?"

"Stop being so uptight," George said, hitting her with a snowball just above her right ear.

"George!" she yelled, and began to chase him, throwing snowballs at him. He ran, laughing, skilfully dodging Hermione's attacks. He had been a Beater, after all.

Soon, the six of them where laughing and having a battle, that went on until Mrs Weasley appeared on the doorstep and told them that tea was ready and that they should come inside and get warm.

"See? I told you it would be fun," Ron said into her ear, smiling, as they were heading for the door; she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"It was."

"Come on. Get near the fireplace," Mrs Weasley said, ushering them inside.

They all sat down near the fireplace in the already crowded drawing room and Mrs Weasley offered them tea. After a while, Hermione's father asked Ron if he wanted to play a game of chess with him, because he had never seen wizard chess before. Hermione watched attentively how her father put up a good fight, but was finally defeated by a very nervous Ron, who seemed not to know whether to look proud or apologetic.

Afterwards, everyone helped to prepare dinner and to set the table. As they were already twelve people (the seven Weasleys, the three Grangers, Harry and Fleur), they had only invited Lupin and Tonks, but Tonks had declined.

"Mum also invited Tonks to come for Christmas, but she refused to come then, too," Ron whispered to Hermione as they put the plates on the table. "I don't know why she's insisting. We've seen her once and she still looks as gloomy as during the summer."

"Do you think she still hopes Bill will dump Fleur?" Hermione whispered back, and both of them glanced at Fleur, who was lovingly kissing Bill's cheek.

"I don't know. Maybe," said Ron, who, to Hermione's delight, no longer seemed to be affected by Fleur's Veela powers, and she couldn't help but think that it was due to his relationship with her.

"And how's Lupin been?" she asked, still whispering. Ron looked serious.

"He seems to have been suffering through a rough time," he answered. "He told Harry that he had been living amongst the werewolves, who are, almost all of them, on You-Know-Who's side and led by a brutal werewolf called Fenrir Greyback, but we don't know anything about him."

"But we —!" began to say Hermione excitedly. She remembered perfectly Draco Malfoy using that name as a threat to Borgin, during their detour to Knockturn Alley on August, but couldn't say anything more because her mother interrupted them.

"Less whispering, you two!" she said, looking at them. "These plates aren't going to put themselves on the table!"

"Actually, they could," Fred said, who was making some bottles float through the air, pointing at them with his wand. "It's why we study hard during seven years, Mrs Granger."

"Yeah, as if you knew what studying hard is," Ginny sneered, putting some forks and knives on the table.

"Hey! We're managing quite well, aren't we?" he said, trying to look offended.

The dinner, as usual, was copious and extremely delicious. Everyone was chattering animatedly; the main subject being the differences between Muggle customs and Wizarding ones. Lupin seemed to be the most quiet of them all, but, despite that, Hermione couldn't help but feel absolutely happy, having her two families, Muggle and magical, together and enjoying the end of the year and the beginning of another, hopefully, wonderful one. Ron seemed unable to stop glancing and smiling at her every few seconds, and she wanted to do the same. But she could see Fleur all over Bill, on the other side of the table, and didn't want to look like them, so she was refraining.

"Molly, this is simply delicious," Hermione's father commented, leaning against the back of his seat, apparently fully sated. "I can't eat anything more."

"It's nothing, it's nothing!" Mrs Weasley said, but smiled, obviously pleased. "Everyone helped; I don't deserve all the credit."

"Oh, you do!" Hermione's mother replied. "I never could do this. We usually don't cook a lot at home, as we're usually the two of us alone."

Once everyone had finished, they all helped to clean the table and moved to the drawing room, where Mr Weasley began to open some bottles of wine and Ogden's Firewhisky.

"Here, Remus ..." he said, and then looked at Mr Granger. "Do you like whiskey, William?"

"Of course," he said.

"Then you have to try this. It burns a bit more than Muggle whiskey, but you'll love it."

Mr Weasley gave all the adults a glass, and then Fred and George took a box of their _Weasley's Wildfire Wiz-bangs_, and walked out of the house.

"You have to see this!" Hermione told her parents excitedly. "Their fireworks are simply spectacular!"

Everyone moved towards the door, and watched how the twins used some of the contents of the box filling the air around The Burrow with explosions of colour, dragons, hippogriffs and some other creatures.

"We can't use everything, or shoot them high into the air, because the people in the village could see it, but this'll do," commented Fred, grinning.

"It's wonderful!" Hermione's dad exclaimed. "This stuff is yours?" he asked George.

"Yep, one of our best-selling products," he nodded proudly.

"I'd love to buy some boxes, but surely you can't sell them to me."

"No, we can't," Fred confirmed. "If you used these in a Muggle area, we — and you — would be in serious trouble with the Ministry."

They watched the show for ten minutes, until the fireworks began to vanish and they started to get cold, and went back inside. Mr Weasley served more Firewhiskey, and Ron disappeared for a moment in the kitchen and then came back with several bottles of butterbeer.

"Here," he said, giving one each to Ginny, Harry and Hermione.

"Thanks," said Harry, grabbing his.

"You're welcome," said Ron. "I'd prefer some firewhiskey, though, but I think Mum wouldn't approve."

Hermione took a good sip of her bottle, sighing pleasurably when she noticed the warm drink heating her body, and watched Mrs Weasley turning on the old wooden wireless. An instant later, a woman was singing a song called _You've Bewitched Me_. Fleur frowned.

"She hates Celestina Warbeck," Ron whispered into her ear, making her shiver.

"Celestina Warbeck?"

"The singer," Ron explained. "And Mum keeps making us all listen to her."

Hermione chuckled.

"Well, she's a good singer," interjected Ginny, who was sitting beside Hermione. "But _Phlegm_ just thinks she's better than anyone —"

"_You_ hate her too," Ron replied, glaring at Ginny. "You're saying this only because you don't want to agree with Fleur. And stop calling her that nickname; she will be part of the family soon."

"Don't remind me," Ginny said, folding her arms.

As midnight drew nearer, the Weasleys and their guests divided in several groups. Mrs Weasley brought a dish full of big chocolate biscuits that looked simply delicious, although Hermione couldn't eat anything more.

"Those are Mum's traditional New Year's Eve biscuits," Ron explained, taking one. "It's a family recipe, and they're incredibly tasty. Have one."

"I can't eat," said Hermione, rejecting the biscuit.

"My teeth won't appreciate what I'm doing to them tonight," Hermione's father said, taking a biscuit, and everyone laughed.

"Come on, Hermione, you have to taste one," said Ron.

"Okay, give me a little piece of yours, then."

Ron looked at the biscuit and then grinned mischievously. A moment later, he stuffed the whole biscuit in his mouth, and Hermione made a disgusted gesture.

"Cam'ere," he said, and tried to kiss her.

"Ron!" she said, dodging his mouth, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"U dold me Uwand'd a bid," he said, chewing loudly.

"Not this way!" she said, and laughed again. She couldn't understand how he could do it, making her laugh with the most stupid actions, but the truth was that he could, and she loved him for it.

Her laugh make him laugh, too, and the he coughed and went all red in the face, choking. Hermione started to worry for a moment, but then couldn't help it and laughed again.

"Well, you lost your chance," he said, finally gulping down the contents of his mouth. He beamed and licked his lips, where he had some bits of the biscuit, and her eyes focused on his mouth. She wanted nothing more than to lick those lips herself, but it wouldn't be very appropriate.

"Simply delicious," he said.

"Ron!" her mother scolded him. "I didn't raise you to behave like a pig, young man! If I were Hermione, I wouldn't put my mouth near yours ever again!"

The twins, Harry, Ginny and Bill burst into laughter, and Ron's ears turned red. He looked down sheepishly, and Hermione felt bad for him.

"Don't worry, I don't think I can have my mouth away from yours for long," she said into his ear, blushing a little. "But I'd be grateful if you didn't do things like that."

"But you laughed," he said, grinning again.

"Well, yes, but it was _disgusting_," she said.

"Disgusting in a sexy way?" he asked, with a hopeful smile.

"Definitely not in a sexy way," she declared, shaking her head.

"Maybe I should try swallowing two biscuits at the same time," he said, thoughtful.

"You're joking!" Hermione said, shocked. "It's impossible!"

Ron looked at her defiantly. "Fred and George bet once that I couldn't and they lost. Don't make the same mistake."

"And what did you win?" Hermione asked, not sure that she wanted to know the answer.

"Another biscuit."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible!"

"Impossibly irresistible?"

"No!"

"Can you two stop?" asked Harry, who had sat down next to them. "I'm still here, I can hear most of what you're saying, and I'm starting to feel sick."

"Oh, sorry, Harry," Hermione said, turning pink, and looked down, embarrassed.

"We're not doing anything," Ron replied, though his ears were also red.

"Do you want to play some wizard chess?" Harry asked him, eager to change the subject.

Ron raised his eyebrows in incredulity. "Let me get this straight: _you are asking me to stop — er — flirting with Hermione so I can play chess with you_?" he asked.

"Er — yes?" Harry said, sheepishly.

"You want to lose so badly?"

"I can beat you," Harry said, a bit offended.

"Yeah, in your dreams," Ron said, laughing.

"Hey!" Harry protested. "I'm not that bad!"

"Yeah, well, you're better than Hermione; that's true ..."

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione said, frowning.

"Sorry, Hermione, but it's true. You're very intelligent and all that, but chess is not your game. Besides, Harry plays more than you and has got better. Not that it will help him beating me, mind you."

"You two play more because you're both lazy and are always counting on me to help you with your homework. I have much more important worries than wizard chess during the school year!" she said hotly.

Ron stared at her and then burst into laughter.

"What?" she asked. "What's so funny?"

"You really hate it, don't you?" Ron said, grinning. "Being beaten at something."

"I'm not a bad loser!" Hermione fumed.

"Yes, you are," Ron insisted. "Think about Harry's new book. You hate it because you aren't the best at potions now."

Hermione threw him a deadly glare. How dare he mention that book? "That's not true! I _don't like_ it because its contents are not tested! And Harry is not better at potions," she added, also glaring at him, "he just is using another person's work!"

"_Everyone_ is using another person's work," Harry protested. "I mean, you're following Libatius' instructions —"

"Which are official, well-tested and approved!" interjected Hermione.

"— and I am using the Prince's."

"Again arguing about that book?" said Ginny, sitting on the carpet in front of them, with another bottle of butterbeer.

"No, we're not arguing," said Hermione, still annoyed.

"Hermione, I didn't mean to offend you, sorry," said Ron, who now seemed a bit worried for having mentioned that she was a sore loser. Because _she definitely wasn't_ one!

"Well, next time you want to be funny, think twice about what you're saying!"

"Okay, okay!" said Ron, in a tone that suggested he was extremely sorry.

"Wow, Ron, your girlfriend has a temper, hasn't she?" Fred asked, sitting beside Ginny with George. Both were grinning.

"Don't you two have anything else to do?" Ron asked, glaring at his brothers, just like Hermione.

"Well, yes —" George began to say.

"— but we prefer seeing Hermione bite your head off," completed Fred.

"Yeah, she can boss you around just like Mum," George added, lowering his voice so his mother, who was deep in conversation with Hermione's mother, couldn't hear him. "That must be a sign of how good a Weasley she would be."

"Shut up!" Ron bellowed, while Hermione flushed crimson.

"I think you've embarrassed her, George," said Fred, pointing at Hermione's face.

"She's blushing! How lovely," George commented in a sing-song voice, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"Leave her alone!"

"Here it comes," said Fred, laughing.

"Yeah, they can be throwing dishes at each other, but if anything else picks on one of them, the other hurries to their rescue! Really endearing, isn't it, Harry?" added George. "You must know; you spend all your time with them."

"Don't bring me into this," muttered Harry.

"Fred! George!" Mrs Weasley yelled from behind them, and they both started, startled. "Leave your brother and Hermione alone!"

"We weren't doing anything!" George protested, in an 'I've-never-done-anything-bad' voice and feigning indignation. "We were just talking to them."

"I know very well what you were doing."

Fred and George frowned and Ron smirked at them. "Don't mind them, Hermione," he added, seeing that Hermione was already a bit embarrassed. "You know how they are."

Hermione didn't have time to say anything, because then Mr Weasley got to his feet.

"Come on, everybody! It's near midnight! Let's toast!"

"I 'ave ze perfect zeeng for zat!" Fleur said brightly, also getting to her feet. She disappeared in the kitchen for half a minute and then was back with two bottles of champagne. "My parents sent zis to me for Christmas. It's magical champagne and it tastes wonderful."

"Magical champagne?" Hermione's mother asked. "I love champagne. We've been a lot of times in France and we always buy some bottles. What's the difference with norm— I mean, Muggle champagne?"

"The bubbles," Fleur said, smiling. "Zey make wonderful zeengs in your mouth, you'll see. You are going to love eet."

Mrs Weasley used her wand to bring some cups from the kitchen. Bill took the bottles from Fleur, opened them and began to fill the cups.

"Have you tasted this _shampaign_ stuff?" Hermione heard Ron asking her into her ear.

"Yes, but only once. I was only thirteen."

"And?"

Hermione shrugged. "I didn't like it much, then. It made me feel a bit light-headed."

"You got _drunk_!" Ron said, utterly shocked.

"I did not!" she hissed, outraged. "I only felt a bit light-headed! That's not the same as being drunk!"

"Sorry," Ron said. "It's just I would never have imagined that you would drink. And when you were thirteen, no less," Ron said, and smirked at her.

"Shut up! I only took a sip, but it was a very hot day!"

"Okay, okay," Ron said, but he was still smiling when Bill filled their cups.

They all waited, standing up and looking at the clock. When it struck midnight, Mr Weasley raised his cup, and everyone else imitated him.

"To family and friendship; may the new year bring happiness and health to us all. Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year!" was echoed around the room. The cups touched one another, filling the room with a clinking noise, and then all of them drank.

Hermione had to close her eyes because the magical bubbles in the champagne tingling in her mouth made them water. But Fleur was right, it tasted good.

Around the room, everyone was hugging and kissing, wishing one another a happy new year. She looked at Ron and saw him staring at her with just a small smile.

"Happy New Year, Hermione," he said softly.

"Happy New Year, Ron."

Then, he bent over her and softly, but with unmistakable passion, kissed her.

It was not a full snog, because they were surrounded by his parents and hers, so there was no tongue involved, but it was sweet and passionate nonetheless. She could feel the taste of the champagne in her mouth and the tingle of the bubbles, now mixed with Ron's strong flavour; the mixture made her feel a bit dizzy.

Finally, after a minute or so, Ron parted from her and she opened her eyes. Ron was smiling at her lovingly. Hermione hugged him and put her head in his chest.

"Do you think this is going to be a good year, Ron?" The question was not only about the two of them or their relationship, but about everything else: Voldemort, and Harry, and their families. And she knew Ron had understood her.

"I hope so," he said. "I'm with you. I only wish every person in this room will be all right in a year, and that I can kiss you again to celebrate the beginning of another one."

"Me too," she said. "That's all I want."

He lifted her head again, putting two fingers under her chin and pushing up to make her look at him, and kissed her once more.

_I love you, Ron_, she thought, and smiled happily against his lips.

* * *

><p><em>I love the end of this chapter, though is a bit sad. Those of you who read TFLDotW know why. And yet, I think that its sadness, the fact that Ron and Hermione's wishes didn't come true, make the story even more beautiful. I hope you liked it as well.<em>

_Well, just one more chapter! This Thursday, okay? See you._


	5. Starting What Might Be a Wonderful Year

_Well, the last chapter. Once more, thanks to __**ObsessedRHShipper**__, who does a brilliant job not only for me, but in this site._

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 5<strong>_

**Starting What Might Be a Good Year**

Hermione woke up slowly, feeling rested and unbelievably happy. She blinked two or three times, her eyes not accustomed to the bright light of the morning, and sat up on the bed, yawning. She looked towards her right and saw Ginny, sleeping peacefully, and sighed contentedly. She closed her eyes and replayed the moments she and Ron had shared last night and the kisses they had exchanged, and couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face. But a moment later, she remembered Lupin, who looked older, tired and drained. And Ron's words, saying that he was living with the werewolves and Fenrir Greyback came back to her. They had not finished that chat last night ...

She suddenly felt as if someone had destroyed the bubble she had been living in the last few days. She remembered thinking how wonderful life was, back at home, but the truth was that she had just been fooling herself and letting herself forget that they were in the middle of a war. Harry was the 'Chosen One,' Dumbledore was giving him private lessons so he could face Voldemort one day, and she knew — because it has always been that way, ever since they had become friends — that Ron and she would be beside him.

She forced those thoughts out of her mind. She wouldn't think about the war, not today. Today she would enjoy the day — the first of what might be a wonderful year — with Ron, Harry, the rest of the Weasleys and her parents, and would forget about what was happening outside The Burrow. In a few days, they would go back to Hogwarts, and then they would have to face reality, but for now, she just wanted to enjoy what life had given her. After all, Harry, Ron and she had already done so much, hadn't they? They had faced countless dangers, and saved quite a lot of people. And any of them could have died on those occasions —

She shivered at the thought.

Thinking that she — or Ron — could have died before admitting their feelings for each other was terrifying. She remembered waking up in the hospital wing, at Hogwarts, just six months ago, not knowing what had happened. She had tried to sit up, only to fall back onto the bed, the pain in her chest too strong. And in the next instant, Ron was beside her, with his arms completely covered in bandages and a worried expression on his face. He had asked her if she was fine, and when she had nodded, he had begun to speak; he told her how worried he had been when he had come back to his senses and had seen her, lying, lifeless, in that bed, and how sorry he was for not being able to protect her. She had just stared at him, not remembering being so touched before, and had realised that one of them — or both — could _really _have died. For a moment, she had contemplated telling him everything, telling him that she fancied him, how important he was to her, and that she wanted to be with him forever. And for just a moment, they had stared into each other's eyes. She was fairly sure that he fancied her, too, and this seemed to be the right moment to tell him, didn't it? But then he had begun to explain to her everything that had happened, including Harry's encounter with Lord Voldemort, the battle between the latter and Dumbledore, and, lastly, Sirius' death. And Hermione, crying, had forgotten about feelings and relationships, too shocked and too sad to say anything.

That had been the first time they had got close to saying something — at least, _she_ had been close — and during the next weeks she had thought about it a lot, wondering if the moment she had been waiting for since the night of the Yule Ball was near.

But when her parents had taken her to The Burrow, she had discovered, horrified, that there was another guest there, a guest that made Ron look like an idiot every time she was near him. If she thought about if rationally, she was conscious that Fleur was a Veela and that the stupid look that appeared on Ron's face was caused by her magic, but when she saw it, she couldn't think about it rationally. She could only scoff, glare at him and think about how pathetic he was.

But the worst thing was _how _solicitous and attentive Ron was towards her — much more than towards Hermione. She had thought with jealousy that it made him look even more pathetic, because it was obvious that Fleur paid no attention to him whatsoever; she had eyes only for Bill.

It had been so long since the last time she had felt jealous because of Ron. She hated the feeling, because it made her irrational. It was, perhaps, the only feeling that really made her feel irrational, but she couldn't help it. And it wasn't that Ron wasn't attentive towards her, or kind, or funny. In fact, the two days before Harry had come to The Burrow had been wonderful, being with him all the time. But the presence of Fleur made her think about a threat she hadn't seen before: that Ron _could_ like, could find another girl, a girl that wasn't her.

It was a terrifying thought.

She knew, deep down, that Ron sometimes believed he was not enough for her. It was a trait he had always had; he believed that he was less than others, like Harry or his brothers. But the truth was that sometimes, she also thought that _she_ wasn't enough for him, or, at least, that she was not the kind of girl he would like, even though it was evident that he admired her, even though sometimes he seemed unaware of that fact. He was funny; and tall; and a member of the Quidditch team and hero of the last Quidditch match. Surely, some girl could start fancying him ...

She had decided that, if he didn't say anything, she ought to do something, and soon. She had never really thought about taking the first step before — well, except for that day in the hospital wing — but maybe now was the time to act. It was obvious that her feelings towards Ron weren't going to go away; if anything, they were growing stronger. And she didn't want to lose him, because even though he could be rather insensitive, and sometimes she wondered why the hell she fancied him, the truth was that he had been with her for the best part of her life. They had gone through so much together, had shared so much, and he made her happy. She didn't feel complete without him.

Her resolve to do something had intensified when, after going back to Hogwarts, her fears had become true: she had noticed, just after a few weeks, that Lavender Brown fancied him and though Lavender wasn't very intelligent she was very pretty. He had seemed a bit clueless at first, but she knew that Lavender wouldn't think about the matter as much as she had done: she would go for him at the first chance. Besides, any doubt she could have about her own feelings had been erased in their first potions lesson with Slughorn, when she had recognised the particular smell of Ron's hair coming off the _Amortentia_.

But, fortunately, Slughorn had told them about the Christmas party he was hosting, and that they could bring guests that were not part of the 'Slug Club.' It had been like a sign to her, and she hadn't had a doubt that this was her opportunity, and she wasn't going to waste it; she was going to ask Ron to come with her to the party.

The sound of somebody yawning broke her train of thought. Blinking rather rapidly, she looked towards her left. Fleur — who shared a room with Ginny and her (something the two of them hated) — had woken up and was stirring.

Realising that she was not going to sleep more, even though it was still half past nine in the morning and they had gone to bed rather late, she got to her feet and began to dress.

"Good morning, 'Ermione," said Fleur, yawning again.

"Oh, good — good morning," Hermione said, a bit awkwardly.

Fleur got out of the bed and stretched. Hermione couldn't help but look at her. Even after getting up, her hair was shiny. And even something as simple as stretching had some sensuality when she did it. Besides, she was wearing a silk nightdress that looked pretty good on her, showing off her perfect skin and curves. Then she looked down at herself, who was wearing plain flannel pyjamas that were the definition of 'boring.'

She slapped herself inwardly. Why should she care if Fleur was prettier than she? Wasn't she, after all, the one who believed that looks weren't everything, or even the most important? Ron fancied her, was with her, and liked her just the way she was. That was what mattered; nothing else.

She began to change her clothes and her mind began to wander, thinking about Fleur and her dislike of her. Did she _really_ dislike her, or was it just jealousy for the way Ron used to ogle her? She thought about the first time she had seen her, at Hogwarts, two years ago. She had felt an instant loathing towards her, hearing how she complained about Hogwarts. But, was that the actual reason? Wouldn't that loathing be related to the fact that Ron had stared at her, almost drooling, the moment he had caught sight of her?

_Impossible,_ she thought. _I hadn't even realised I fancied Ron by then _...

_But maybe, subconsciously, you knew ... and surely that was the true reason you disliked her too much._

She shook her head, trying to banish that voice from her head. She didn't want to think about that, because disliking someone just because the person you fancied liked them was _wrong_, and immature. She didn't want to be like that.

"Are you all right, 'Ermione?" Fleur asked, looking at her.

"Eh? Oh, yes, yes, I'm fine. Thanks."

"You were shaking your 'ead," Fleur insisted.

"I was just thinking about — about some homework," she lied, and sat on the bed to put on her socks.

"You worry too much about zat," she commented. "Zat's not bad," she added. "Is somezing to be proud of. Beel's mum is very proud of you, as if you were 'er daughter, too."

Hermione turned her head to look at the other girl, who was now putting on her shoes. Had she said that last statement with a bit of envy? Had she noticed that Mrs. Weasley was much happier with Ron's choice for a girlfriend than Bill's? She had always believed that Fleur did not care, or had not noticed, but maybe she was wrong. And she felt a bit ashamed of what she had been thinking. Had she misjudged the French woman?

"Yes, I suppose she is," Hermione answered. "She has known me since I was twelve, after all, and I've been with the Weasleys a lot of times."

"Zey're a good family, aren't zey?" Fleur commented. "But I zink Beel's mum doesn't like me much."

"I'm sure that's not true," Hermione told her, lying, because she didn't know what else to say.

"Zank you, 'Ermione," she said, and smiled a bit. Then she stood up again and walked towards the door. "I'll see you downstairs," she added, before opening the door and walking out.

Hermione gazed at the door, still a bit shocked by the 'moment' she and Fleur had shared. Maybe she had misjudged Fleur. Perhaps she wasn't as shallow as she had believed and cared about more than looks and dresses.

She put her trousers and then her Muggle trainers and stood up. Ginny was still asleep, and Hermione decided to never tell anyone about what had happened. Or, at least, until the wedding, if — despite Mrs Weasley's unwillingness and Ginny's wishes — it happened.

When she walked into the kitchen, she saw that her parents were already up, and were enjoying breakfast with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill and Fleur, who was sipping on her tea.

"Good morning, dear," her mother said, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well. Thanks, Mum."

"What do you want for breakfast, Hermione?" Mrs Weasley asked, standing up.

"Just a few pieces of toast with butter and jam," she said. "And tea."

"Sit down then."

Ten minutes later, while they were all chatting merrily while they enjoyed breakfast, Ron and Harry walked into the kitchen. Hermione smiled at them, feeling her heart soar just at the sight of Ron. Ron returned the smile and sat down beside her.

While she was finishing her last toast, just listening to the talk, she looked at Harry, and suddenly remembered her unfinished talk with Ron before last night dinner, about Fenrir Greyback. So, ten minutes later, once they had finished eating, Hermione asked Ron and Harry if they could talk for a moment.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron asked, a bit concerned, once he closed the door of his room.

Hermione looked at Harry. "Fenrir Greyback," she blurted out. "Ron told me that Lupin's mission has to do with him."

"Yeah, that's what he told me," nodded Harry, while Ron sat on his bed next to him. "He's the werewolf that bit him when he was a kid. A very savage one, it seems. Why? Do you know something about him?"

"Draco Malfoy," said Hermione. "He threatened Borgin with sending Greyback, don't you remember? That day, in Knock—"

"YES!" shouted Harry, his eyes wide open in triumph. "I remember! And that, of course, proves my theory about Malfoy!" he added, with an 'I-told-you-so' look on his face.

"WHAT?" asked Hermione. This was not what she had expected at all. "No, I didn't mean —"

"You said it yourself!" replied Harry, not letting her talk. "Greyback is a Death Eater, or works for them. How could Malfoy be in contact with him, or ask him to threaten people, if he wasn't a Death Eater, too?" he asked.

"Yes, that's true. Good point," nodded Ron.

Hermione did not know what to say.

"Well, it — it could be an empty threat," she muttered.

Harry snorted. "Come on, Hermione!"

"Well, it could!" said Hermione, sitting more straight and trying to look defiant. "Remember the Chamber of Secrets. He wandered all around Hogwarts threatening people and he wasn't the heir of Slytherin, was he? He didn't even know who he was."

Harry looked at Ron. "What do you think?" Harry asked. Both Hermione and Harry stared at him, waiting for an answer, and Ron scratched his head and looked down, trying to avoid their gazes.

"Well ... Greyback, the Unbreakable Vow ... I think it's pretty suspicious," he said finally, looking up but avoiding the gazes of any of his friends. "I'm not saying he's a Death Eater, but, sincerely, I can't imagine another explanation. Can you?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione hummed, and, to avoid answering, she got up and went to the window, facing away from the boys.

"No, not now, but that doesn't mean there isn't another explanation."

"I will love to hear it when you have one," said Harry, standing up. "Got to go the bathroom. See you later," he added, and went out.

"You _really_ hate being wrong, don't you?" said Ron softly, putting his hands on her shoulders. Hermione didn't turn round and kept looking out of the window.

"No, I don't," she answered, though the truth was that she really hated it. She knew it wasn't a very good thing, but couldn't help it.

"And you're stubborn," added Ron, his tone showing clearly that he was smiling.

"Oh, as if you aren't!" she retorted, this time turning round.

"I'm not," he replied.

"Yes, you are!"

"Am not!"

"You are!"

"Am not!"

"Point proved," said Hermione, and she smiled. Ron scowled, but then smiled at her, too.

"Okay, you win. We're bloody stubborn, the two of us. Now, can I have my good morning kiss?"

"I suppose," she said, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him towards her. She almost moaned the moment their lips met, sliding sensually and passionately before opening up to give access to their tongues. After a few dizzying minutes, they moved away, both of them pleasurably flustered and smiling.

"I wouldn't mind starting every day like this," he commented.

"Me neither," answered Hermione.

Hermione turned round once more, and Ron embraced her round her waist and rested his head on her right shoulder, and they just stayed that way, watching the snow-covered garden in a comfortable silence. It was a wonderful feeling.

It still marvelled Hermione how well they were managing the transition from best friends to boyfriend and girlfriend. It felt, once more, as if they were meant to be, as if they were made for each other. Her rational mind kept telling her that it was a ridiculous idea, and yet her heart told her that it was true.

"You're going back home with your parents, aren't you?" Ron asked suddenly. "This afternoon."

"Yes, I am," nodded Hermione. "I won't see them again until the summer, and I've realised that I neglected them a lot during these holidays. I miss them, Ron."

"I understand," said Ron in a very serious tone. "We don't know what's going to happen. It's completely normal to want to be with your family."

"I'll miss you, though," she said, putting her arms above his and grabbing his hands.

"Me too," Ron said, kissing her on the cheek. She closed her eyes, feeling absolutely in bliss with Ron's lips on her skin and his arms wrapped around her. She felt safe and protected. "However, that might change once the term starts and you begin nagging me to do my homework and study."

"Idiot," she replied, slapping his hands playfully. "We had a deal, remember? I'd loosen up a bit and you'd listen to me regarding your homework."

"I know, I know," he said in a placating tone. "And now that we've sorted out all these issues, why don't we do something productive?"

"Something productive?" she asked, turning her head to look at him. "Like what?"

"Like snog."

"Mmh," Hermione said, looking out of the window again. "I don't know. You said your mother didn't want any 'funny business,' didn't you? And we've been here, alone, for a while."

"Right now, I don't care."

She disentangled herself from his arms and turned round to face him. "What if I do care?"

"Then I'd have to — _convince_ you of the perks of going along with my wonderful ideas," he said, smirking mischievously.

"Are you improving your vocabulary just to impress me?" she asked, grinning.

"Maybe," he answered mysteriously. "Did I impress you?"

"No," said Hermione, "but you can still try and convince me."

Ron didn't waste a single second. He pulled her towards his bed, made her sit on it and immediately started to kiss her, first on the mouth, hard, and then all over her face, making her close her eyes and giggle playfully. He kept at this for a good two minutes until she put her hands on both sides of his face and make him kiss her on the mouth. Both exhaling a soft moan, they get lost in the kiss until a soft knock on the door made them pull apart. Ron groaned.

"What!" he shouted towards the door, a bit irritated.

"Eh — your mother wants you to go and make sure the chickens have got food," said Harry's sheepish voice from the other side of the door.

"Harry, you can come in," said Hermione, while Ron put his hands over his face and muttered, angrily, "Bloody hell!"

The door opened and Harry entered warily. "Sorry," he apologised, looking at them a bit embarrassed. "I offered to do it myself, but she said you knew better."

"She _always_ feeds the chickens early in the morning!" protested Ron.

"Well — she said she didn't remember whether she had done it."

"Sure," growled Ron. "There's no privacy in this house."

"Come on," said Hermione, getting up and avoiding Harry's eyes, completely sure that her face reflected that she had been snogged passionately by Ron. "We'd better go down."

They climbed down the stairs. When they reached the sitting room, Hermione saw Mrs Weasley walk out of the kitchen, followed by her mother. Hermione felt herself blush under Mrs Weasley's stare. Behind her back, her mother smirked slightly at her.

"Ron, go and make sure —" started to say Mrs Weasley. Ron glared at her and didn't let her finish her speech.

"I know, I know!" he shouted, putting on his coat. Hermione and Harry did the same and the three of them walked out of the house.

While Ron went to the henhouse, Hermione waited with Harry, both quiet. She could hear her father and Mr Weasley's voices in the shed. Sighing, she turned towards Harry.

"Harry ..." he looked at her. She didn't know how to say this. "You — you don't feel left out or embarrassed around us, do you?" she asked, feeling herself blush. "I mean, are you completely okay with Ron and me being — well, being a couple?"

"Yes," said Harry quickly. "Of course, I am. I won't deny that it is a bit strange to see you two — well, being affectionate and all that. I mean it isn't as if I didn't expect it, but well, it's a bit odd," he finished, avoiding looking at her.

"We don't want you to feel left out," she said. "You're our best friend."

"I know, Hermione," he said, and smiled reassuringly at her. "Don't worry. As long as you don't start to act like Bill and Fleur, I'll be fine. I mean, I understand that this — well, that it is new for you."

"Seriously?" she asked, still worried.

Harry smiled at her. "Seriously, Hermione. I'm very happy for you both, you know."

"All right, then." She returned the smile. "Thanks, Harry," she added, more relaxed, and turned her head towards the henhouse, because Ron had exited it and was walking towards them, with a furious look on his face.

"The chickens have food, I suppose?" asked Harry, smiling lightly.

"Of course they have," answered Ron, fuming. "She just didn't want Hermione and me alone."

"Calm down, Ron," she said, stroking his left arm in a soothing manner.

"You're leaving today," replied Ron grumpily.

"I know," she said. "But well, the term starts in a few days."

"Yeah," nodded Ron, frowning, "classes, homework, exams ..."

"You reminding us about classes, homework and exams ..." added Harry with a smirk. Hermione glared at him, but Ron laughed.

"Yeah, that too," he said, nodding and smiling.

"Well, _someone_ has to do it, or you would still be in first year!" she replied, trying to look offended.

"And we appreciate it, you know," Ron said, smiling fondly at her.

"Yeah, we do," added Harry.

"I don't know why I put up with you two sometimes!" she said, feigning exasperation.

"Because your life would be too boring otherwise," replied Ron, and Harry laughed. She shook her head, but couldn't help grinning.

"Yeah, I suppose if would."

They fell silent, and the three of them stared at the house for a few moments.

"Wanna play wizard chess?" Harry asked Ron.

"Yeah," he nodded. "And Hermione can watch and learn." Harry laughed.

"Idiots!" she said, smacking both of them on the back of their heads. They laughed again, and she, smiling at them, put her arms around their necks, giving them one-arm hugs. "I'm lucky, for having you two," she added, now serious.

"I — _we _are lucky, too," Ron said, staring at her.

"Very lucky," added Harry.

Hermione linked her arms with theirs and together they walked into the house.

* * *

><p><em>Well, this is it. I love the friendship between the trio so much, they're so special!<em>

_Now, those of you who read TFLDotW will appreciate the irony of the title. Yeah, I'm cruel, but you already know that._

_I hope that you liked the 'Hermione/Fleur' moment (this is the moment Hermione thinks about in the chapter __**June, 1997**__, when Ginny and she leave the hospital wing. I hope you remember, though probably you'll have erased that chapter from your minds :-) )._

_The last outtake of TFLDotW, __**Almost Ready**__, will be published next week. It's just a one shot, and though it is, in a way, much more related to the plot of TFLDotW than this story, it can be read separately as well. It happens a few months after the events described here._

_If you liked this story, I'd love a review._

_Until next week!_


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